Baby's Got the Bends
by VioletBeauregarde
Summary: Time for a different kind of Rachel Berry, one with major attitude and definitely AU. See what happens when Finn really ticks her off.
1. He's a Hot Venus Fly Trap

_Hello, everyone! VioletBeaurgarde is feeling a bit sassy and in need of a distraction in the form of an edgy **way** off-character Rachel with an extremely bad attitude. Most other Glee characters are pretty much in character and follow canon during the first season with a few other season details intermixed. This is me playing around.** Do you think I should continue? Please let me know!**_

_**Warning: Rachel's language and thoughts would make 50 Cent blush. There are a few sexual references, so put your eyes elsewhere, if this isn't your thing.**_

_**I am in no way affiliated with Glee, and they wouldn't want this version of Rachel anyway.**_

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**Baby's Got the Bends**

"_Intelligent but maladjusted_" is what the shrink called me. Yeah, well he could just go piss off, and I told him so on multiple occasions during our weekly sessions. I could also tell him that maladjusted was just another word for fucked up. That's what I was- fucked up. Being different had a way of messing with your head. I was Rachel Barbra Berry, a name I had hated as long as I could remember. What had my dads been thinking naming me after a biblical character even more whack than me and some Jewish princess with a big beak? The name Berry was bad enough to deal with in elementary school as in: Hairy Berry because of the pit hair I developed before any other girl in school (Thank God for Venus razors!), Scary Berry- Well, I earned that one pretty much with my charming demeanor, and my personal favorite- Fairy Berry, in honor of my two homosexual dads, whom I loved more than all the other people combined in this sorry-assed town of Lima, Ohio. That's why the last nickname hurt so much, I think.

The key thing I learned in elementary school: eleven-year-olds are brutal, man. They _still_ scared the shit out of me, and I was sweet sixteen now, baby. Sweet sixteen and never been kissed. Huh! Not without my say-so. I'd done some kissing of my own, if you take my meaning, but I wasn't really into that right now. Guys my age pretty much thought about one thing, and once they got into your panties, they were done with you, so thanks but no thanks. Who wanted some asshole who only saw breasts, a vagina, and a butt anyway. I guess maybe I was off men in general at the moment. What's a frustrated heterosexual girl to do?

That's why... while leaning against my car after school in the McKinley High parking lot waiting for my best friend, Kurt Hummel, to finally haul his ass out of his super-secret GLAAD meeting... and God-of-all-he-surveyed, Finn Hudson, walked by, I just turned my head away in disgust. Ironically, Finn had to be one of the worst offenders in the aforementioned "men-have-one-thought-only" rule- without him _even trying_. Also, he and his prissy, pissy girlfriend, Quinn "Never Gonna Get It" Fabray set my teeth on edge. I would have felt kind of bad for the guy if he hadn't been such a tool, because Quinn had him by the proverbial balls, and I'd bet my last blunt that they were stone cold blue by now. Quinn was gorgeous, of course, and head cheerleader. Hell, if I'd swung that way, I'd even want to tap that. But what a bitch! President of the Celibacy Club, honor roll student, and the perfect little daddy's girl. I try not to judge people _(stop laughing)_, but she was just so sanctimonious and well, just thought she was _all that_. She was in a couple of my classes, and it suited us both to ignore each others' existence most of the time.

So everybody in the whole school knew that Finn "Mr. Tall, Nice, All-American-Boy, Quarterback" Hudson was **not **getting any from Quinn the Ice Queen, but it wasn't for lack of trying on his part. When I turned back around at that very moment, I could see him leering down Quinn's cheering top in hopes of catching a peak at her boobs. The advantage of being a hulking 6 foot 3 inch football player, I guess. I wouldn't know, at 5 foot 2.

For a second I wondered if _all_ parts of Finn were proportional. Hmmm... The big tool could have a … **_big_** tool. I smirked and tilted my head trying to gauge Finn's package through his jeans, just as Kurt pranced up to me.

Kurt- I loved the guy, but he sure didn't make it easy for himself being the only truly out gay kid at McKinley. A kilt? Really? _Mel Gibson was sexy in a skirt_, he had argued. I had my doubts about today's ensemble.

"Hey, Hairy Berry," Quinn called out snidely, "What are you and your boyfriend looking at? Isn't there a Freak Show in town that's hiring, so you wouldn't have to... like... share each others' clothes?" Quinn laughed at her own lame joke. I was confused and furious by her attack. It came out of no where for no apparent reason I could fathom. As I had said before, we usually ignored each other. She gave Kurt and me the foot to head you're-such-losers look.

**_That did it!_** Bitch messed with me and mine on the wrong damn day. I slowly moved to stand from my casual slouch against my beat up VW bug, and took 3 purposeful strides over until I stood toe-to-toe with her, sneering into her perfectly made-up face and said, "I'm looking at..." I returned her rude head-to-foot look "... A frigid, stick up her ass, Marilyn Monroe wanna-be tease, who can't even keep her Neanderthal boyfriend satisfied."

As I finished my tirade, I strutted the 2 additional steps to where Finn Hudson stood with his mouth hanging open and his brows beetling together and grabbed the front of his letterman jacket in my hands, pulling him down towards me. I rose on my toes and planted a long, hot, open mouth kiss -with tongue, of course- on him that had even me a little hot and bothered when I was done. Stepping back I smiled sweetly up into his dazed hazel eyes. I touched the corners of my lips with my finger tips, murmuring flirtatiously, "Call me if you ever get your balls back from that one, Studly-Do-Right."

I turned on my heels and stalked back to my car, got in, and drove away, hoping Kurt had had the sense to get in before I drove off without him. _What the fuck was that?_ _What had I been thinking?_

I looked in my rearview mirror to see Finn Hudson staring after my car with his mouth hanging open- _again_. The boy was a Venus flytrap for chrissakes. I let out a satisfied chuckle when, to finally get his attention, Quinn punched him in the shoulder so hard it made him wince. It was only then, he stopped his gaping after my car and turned to let her melt his eardrums about our kiss.

Damn, he was a tool, but that kiss was... I think my panties were still smoking. Even with the height difference, it had definitely been well worth the climb. I smiled to myself. The look on Quinn's face- _priceless_.

"Rachel, what the hell were you thinking kissing my step-brother like that in front of God and everybody?" Kurt sounded a little hysterical, "You do realize he lives in my house with my dad and his mom, and _me_. Or did you forget last week's lasagna night, when he sat across from you at the dinner table?" _Ugh, actually I didn't need the reminder of how his mouth was often open- even while chewing his food_.

Well, damn, I had forgotten the little complication of Finn and Kurt's family living arrangements in the heat of my anger at Quinn. _I was always doing that. Acting without thinking._ Mentally shrugging, I glanced at Kurt, "No worries, darling. I bet I made his day. He sure ain't getting _that_ from Quinn." I smiled over at him cajolingly.

At Kurt's glower, I changed my tactics and shot him a contrite look. He was a good friend to me, putting up with my shit, and his step-mom made great lasagna, and Burt, Kurt's dad, helped fix my vintage bug once in a while. Kurt tried to have me for dinner at his house at least once a week for my "mental well-being," he said. My dads were always trying to foist vegan rabbit food crap on me at home, for my health and for general animal rights everywhere, so they said. Whatever. Sometimes a girl just needed a big piece of meat, _speaking of which_... "I could apologize to Finn, if you want, Kurt. Just another moment brought to you by temporary Berry-insanity. You know how things like what Quinn said really put my panties in a twist."

_What was with me and thoughts of my panties today?_ Maybe I _did_ need to find someone to scratch my itch. If my reaction to _St_udson and our scorching, hot kiss was any indication- _sooner rather than later_.

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_O-kay. Thanks for reading and hope Rachel didn't totally mortify anyone. Reviews would be fantastic, but only if they're nicer than Rachel. Lots of you can probably see where this is headed. Should we go there? Let me know._


	2. Flat Tires, Big Tools, & Early Arrivals

_**Warning: Bad language and mature sexual themes. Enjoy!**_

_Thanks so much for all the reviews, alerts, & favorites that encouraged me to continue! Please keep them coming to let me know how I'm doing._

_I am not associated with Glee in any way. That sucks._

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**Baby's Got the Bends**

**Part 2: Flat Tires, Big Tools, and Early Arrivals**

"_Needs __to __work __on __personal __relationships __with __others_," my shrink reported this week. The gems that balding, middle-aged prick came up with usually amused me because they were like "Duh! You think?" statements. Not so amused this week- because for some unexplained, fuck with my head (more) reason, Finn Hudson popped right into my mind and stayed there like a bad case of the mental crabs. This was especially irritating since I had no personal or any other relationship to speak of with Finn "The Knob" Hudson. I mean, I saw him around school sometimes and a couple of times a week, when I hung out with Kurt, but we had never exchanged more than a few dozen words in our entire non-relationship.

Finally, being honest with myself, I knew exactly why he had become my own personal mental venereal disease. It was that damn made-my-vagina-quake kiss that I'd instigated last week in the school parking lot, just because his girlfriend-from-hell was being the bitch she always would be.

So, when I was standing in the same school parking lot late in the afternoon a week later, staring at a virtually flat fucking tire on my old VW Bug, and Finn Hudson walked up to stand next to me and stare at said tire, I really wanted to have a bitch of a hissy fit on his ass.

"That sucks!" he finally said. The man was Ernest-fricking-Hemingway. Shooting him a glare, I noticed that at least his mouth wasn't hanging open this time. _Why __the __hell __was __I __looking __at __his __mouth? _ It was a fairly nice mouth, as they went- firm lips, decent minty breath, soft, _strong_ tongue..._STOP IT, RACHEL BERRY._ It was like watching a train wreck in my head. _Nothing I could do about it._

He glanced around the relatively empty parking lot and back at me, "Do you have a spare and jack? I could, like, change it for you. I help Burt in his garage sometimes."

_Oh, why! Why? In God's green earth was he being so **nice**?_

"That is the spare," I ground out through gritted teeth.

He shrugged philosophically, "Always happens when you don't have a spare."

I shifted from foot to foot and crossed my arms across my chest in irrtitation, "No, shit."

"Well...I could give you a ride someplace, like home... I mean, your home... not my home, but your home..." those mobile, dark eyebrows of his were wiggling madly as he continued with the verbal diarrhea, "That is, unless you were going to see Kurt, then I could take you to my home...his home. I know you've been there twice this week."

This was _odd_. He seemed really nervous. He was always so comfortable and friendly and confident around school, _so __unlike __me_. Then I saw him look directly at my mouth and look away, a red blush rising up his neck and continuing to his cheekbones. Ahh... I was in some way gratified that our kiss had rattled his cage a little, too, so I attempted to be gracious, which wasn't a behavior I was completely comfortable with relating to him, "A ride to my house would be great. Thanks. I guess, I can get my dads to get the tire and bring it back later."

"Wait...that's a pain for them. How about I jack it up real quickly, and we take the tire with us? In fact..." his eyes lit up, "We could swing by Burt's shop and I could put a plug in for you. That way your dads don't have to deal with it at all."

"I...that's a lot of trouble for you. I mean... I don't want to put you out," I was staggered that he would help out some random girl who was usually kind of bitchy to him, but then I guess he was used to the bitchy, dating Quinn.

My train of thought was interrupted by him taking off his letterman jacket, the same one I'd grabbed to pull him down to kiss him. "Here, can you hold this? You have a jack in here, right? I have one in my truck that might work if you don't." I nodded and he popped my trunk, which was in the front of old VW Bugs, and fished around for a jack. Impressed he knew that, I walked over to stand next to him as he began jacking up the car.

"How did you know that? Most people don't know that old Bugs have the trunk in the front and engine in the back?"

"My mom had one of these when I was a kid. I loved that car. Some weekends we'd just get in and drive. She'd say, 'Come on, Finn. We're going on an adventure.' They're really cool cars. Different. I guess I'm not surprised you would have one. I mean, you're kind of like your car, aren't you?"

"Yeah, that's me- different," I replied trying to keep the defensiveness out of my voice.

Must not have done a good job of it because he hurried to respond, "No! I mean you _are_ different, but you're really cool, too."

I wondered if the red over his neck and face was him blushing again, or from his exertions from jacking up my car. I was pondering how to respond to the compliment when he said, "Come here a sec."

I put his jacket on my front seat and moved to stand next to him. He handed me my hubcap upside down, "Here, hold this, so I can put the lug nuts in it. Nothing more annoying than losing a lug nut under the car when you're changing a tire."

Doing as instructed, while he used the wrench-thing or whatever it was to take off each lug nut, I was impressed. I was pretty sure that I wouldn't have the hand strength to take off one lug nut, let alone 5. He had nice hands, tapered fingers, obviously strong, probably from gripping a football a lot. I shivered a little as an errant thought of those hands on me, pressing into my skin flashed through my mind.

He said something I didn't catch and stood up holding the tire. "What? Sorry?" I stammered. _Rachel __Berry, __reign __in t__he __crazy __lust __buggy, __this __instant!_

Like he was speaking to a four year old, he repeated: "I said, it looks like you picked up a nail. See here," those supple, now a little grubby, fingers pointed to a piece of metal sticking out of my tire, "Should be easy to plug at the shop. I won't have to look for the leak."

He walked over and tossed the tire in the back of his truck, while I locked my car and moved to the passenger side of his truck. He unlocked my door and opened it for me. _Damn, __a __gentleman- __I __thought __they __were __long __dead as of __several __centuries __ago. _"Here, watch, your step up." He held out the hand I'd been admiring and actually helped me into the cab. My fingers tingled when his hand wrapped around them, and I felt like I was in a fecking Jane Austen novel being helped into my carriage.

The ride to Burt's shop was pretty quiet since I was freaking out about my all-over-the-damn-map physical responses to Finn. _What __the __hell __was __wrong __with __me? _ I was like a 14-year-old virgin on her first date.

"Umm... I really appreciate you doing this. I know you don't have to," I finally found my voice and what few manners I had.

"It's my pleasure," he responded gallantly, "Was I supposed to leave you standing there in the deserted parking lot with a flat?" He shot me a cheeky half smile. I'd seen him with that expression before but never directed at me. I swear I felt my blood rushing to the female equivalent of an erection.

"Did you have dance after school or something?" he asked idly. _He knew I took dance?_ I guess Kurt must have mentioned it.

"No...well, sort of... I needed to practice a few steps that I've been having trouble with. You were leaving football practice?"

"Nah," he responded, "Just working out- running and stuff. Gotta be in top shape to be quarterback."

Nodding absently, I said, "Yeah, I see that."

I was staring at his chest that was pretty well defined under his white t-shirt, and he caught me looking. _Well, __crap_. Now _I_ was blushing, I turned to look out the window, hoping he wouldn't see.

"I guess, being a dancer you get the being in shape thing," he said, graciously choosing to ignore my ogling, "You're pretty fit yourself. I've seen you dance before." I gave him a surprised look.

"...When I walk by sometimes before practice," he explained. "Looks hard."

"Sometimes it is, but I've been dancing since I was three. I kind of like it, though. I can put on music and forget about all the other shit going on in my life."

_Can't __believe __I __just __said __that __to __Finn __Hudson. __Did __I __think __he __was __fucking __Dr. __Phil __or __something? _ I was so glad we were pulling into the parking lot of Burt's shop, so this torment could end. It looked closed. That would figure.

"I know what you mean..." he responded killing the engine and hopping out of the truck to run around and open my door and hand me down onto the pavement before continuing, "I feel exactly the same way about football. Running drills, even during the games. The world just fades away sometimes."

_Who knew there was so much going on in that head of his? ** Danger!**_ I was starting to think he wasn't such the tool.

He grabbed my tire from the back, and moved to a side door of the tire shop, pulling out his keys to unlock it. "I sometimes open up for Burt on weekends, so good thing I have a key."

He held the door for me. I walked under his long arm bracing the door open to stand in the dark shop with outlines of cars in various states of repair. He walked through the dimness to flip a switch and fluorescent lights winked on about the large room.

He moved to put my tire on this wheel thing and went about fixing the hole. I ambled over and brushed off the top of a large tool chest. I hopped up to sit, feet dangling, and turned to watch him while he worked, his dark head bent over the tire.

"This is great, Finn," I crossed my legs and leaned back to get more comfortable on the tall chest, "I was so lucky you were around. Thanks- and I mean it. I know I've been kind of a bitch to you..."

I trailed off suddenly because Finn had looked up from where he was working, and his eyes trailed up over my bare legs, to where my skirt had hiked up my thighs. _Whoops_. He might even be able to see my panties from his angle, leaning over.

He straightened, an intense, feral look on his handsome face that sent licks of desire straight to the suddenly moist area beneath _those_ panties. He never looked away from me as he walked over slowly to stand a breath away from where I sat atop the tool chest. I could feel the heat of him, he was so close, yet not touching. I wanted him to be touching me- _everywhere_. I uncrossed my legs and opened them a little, without really thinking about it.

"Rachel, I..." he began, but I pressed my index finger over those delicious lips, and shushed him, while scooting a few inches forward on the bench, which seemed to be the perfect height for..._Oh!_

His hands shot out. Those strong powerful hands were pulling me into him, his fingers bunching in the fabric of my skirt at my hips. I tilted my pelvis into the bulge beneath his pants, intimately pressing myself against him. He opened his lips and sucked at my finger, nipping it gently in his teeth.

Blood roaring in my ears, my breath coming in deep pants, I gave into the arousal I'd felt since the moment he stood next to me in the parking lot today..._hell_...since last week when we made out in front of God and everybody. He leaned over me, his lips trailing up my neck, tormenting me, because he had to know what I wanted. I whimpered, "Finn..ugnh..." and then his mouth finally raked over mine in a hot, melting kiss. I fisted my hands in his hair and tugged him closer to deepen the kiss, wrapping my legs around his hips, he ground his hard on against just the place that would have maximum affect on me. Hoo-ha! I had the answer to my question of last week. The large tools hanging around the shop had _nothing_ on Finn Hudson's tool.

Then the strangest thing happened. He pulled his head back from mine gasping, arching his neck backwards, a look of absolute abandon on his... _what the hell?_ Oh... poor guy, he would be mortified. I found it extremely flattering, actually. I mean it's not like I was going to jerk him off or have sex with him, anyway. _Well, probably not_, though the way I was feeling, it would have been a near thing... Nah- We were just fooling around. Well, at least one of us had a happy ending.

His face set in a very dark frown, as he moved to turn away from me. I stopped him by grabbing his face between my hands, placing my palms on his cheeks. He wouldn't look me in the eye. He just stood there looking down, probably hoping the ground would open and swallow him up. I got it. Extremely awkward teenage guy moment.

"Finn,"I said softly, "Can I just say how incredibly sexy I think it is that you enjoyed what we were doing so much that you um...had your own little party," Looking down at the still prominent bulge, "Well, I wouldn't say little..." I moved to kiss him lingeringly on the lips.

I drew back to study his face, "It's really hot actually. And if we were to continue, I'm sure you wouldn't be done there. You are what... 16, like me? _Hello_, short recovery period."

His eyes flickered up to meet mine briefly and then back to the floor, and he finally spoke gruffly, "You're the strangest girl I've ever met."

I drew back like I'd been smacked, but Finn stepped forward and finally really looked me in the eyes, "No! Wait! That came out wrong. I think you're awesome and _so_ fucking hot. So few people see the you that I see now. Most girls would have been disgusted or pissy about... _you know_... ," he closed his eyes and looked down in embarrassment before continuing, "...but you were so cool about it. Like it didn't matter or that it was even a turn on."

I shrugged, "Who am I to judge you for 'finding your pleasure,' as they say? I say bully for you, Finn Hudson. And if I were your girlfriend," At this, we both paused at the weight of my words before I continued, "_If_ I were your girlfriend, it would be **my** pleasure to wind you up again for another go, as soon as I could manage it, which would probably be like what- 10 minutes tops, judging by the looks of you. The next time we'd _both_ be having screaming orgasms."

"More like 5 minutes...or maybe like right now," he mumbled sheepishly.

"Quinn is a lucky, lucky girl, and she doesn't even realize it..." I said absently.

_How is it, if there is a __**worst**__ possible thing to say at a given moment, I seem to say it?_ F-U-C-K! He stiffened, and _not_ in the good way.

"What the hell am I doing? Shit!" He stalked a few paces away from me, his hands ruffling his hair. "Rachel, this isn't fair to you, and I'm so sorry. I should never have done this with ..."

"Don't you dare apologize...Just...stop!" I was not going to cry like a fucking girl.

On the silent ride back to my car, I just started laughing, and Finn looked at me like I'd sprouted another head. I guess I should explain, so he wouldn't think he'd almost fucked a lunatic.

"I was just thinking... This week my shrink said I needed to work on 'my personal relationships with others,'" Imitating his stuffy tone pretty well, I thought. I stifled a laugh, "He has no fucking idea. Not a clue."

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Thanks so much for reading! Hope you liked it. Reviews would be fantastic!


	3. Sticky Hands and Hot Water Concepts

_**Warning: Contains questionable language and sexual material, and Rachel is back to her edgy, hard-to-like ways.**_

_**Thanks so, so much for the reviews, favorites, alerts, etc! Please keep them coming.**_

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**Baby's Got the Bends**

**Part 3-Sticky Hands and Hot Water Concepts**

"_Needs __to learn to __express __emotions __in __a __healthy __and __productive __manner__"_ Dr. Shrinky-Dink wrote on his little pad this week. This was truly rich coming from the man I knew for a fact was a frequent patron of Lima's only strip club, which itself would have been no biggie, if he hadn't been slipping it to an exotic dancer, who worked there, named Lola Loves A Lot. Maybe if he had "expressed his love" with his wife, Jessica, instead of Lola, I would have listened to the hypocritical douche bag. _Sheesh..._

I didn't see Finn- _scratch __that_- Finn and I managed to avoid each other for a good ten days after the tire shop make-out session. I actually made an unplanned and unwanted detour down the freshman hall between classes because I saw him in my path on the way to biology. You'd think a 6'3" behemoth wouldn't be so hard to avoid, but they can sneak up on your ass if you aren't careful. So anyway, avoiding each other seemed to be our _modus operandi_ since the sticky, wet mess of the flat tire fix in Burt's garage.

Me- I wouldn't have minded seeing Finn, but after I thought about it, I figured why risk playing with someone else's Lincoln Log? Especially when that someone else was a semi-psychotic bitch, who might cut my heart out while I slept and eat it just for funsies. I could have just been paranoid, but Quinn seemed to be giving me the evil eye during our Advanced English Class.

So- I finally risked a visit to see Kurt at his house (and, yes, Finn's house) about ten days after the incident-that-shall-not-be-named, thinking, well... knowing that Finn had football practice that evening. We were in Kurt's room, and he was all atwitter about some new guy he had met at the Lima Bean while getting us mocachinos before school on Tuesday. _Why __was __everyone __hooking __up __but __me? No, Finn didn't count._

I heard the front door slam with a sinking heart just as Kurt was recounting how twinkly this guy, Blake's or Baine's or whatever the hell his name was, eyes were. Kurt's step-mom and dad never slammed the front door in such a thoughtless fashion. I heard the heavy footfalls on the steps up to the second floor as the footsteps of doom. Maybe, Finn would just pass by and not stop to speak with his brother._ I could hope, right?_

Not so lucky, in fact _never_ so unlucky. A quick rap on Kurt's door and no pause before there he was...Finn Hudson, star of my nightmares and daydreams combined, in the flesh. This version of Finn Hudson had red eyes and was sniffling, though._ Huh._ Looked decidedly upset and un-Finn-like, and his mouth was in a tight grimace.

"Kurt can a girl get pr..." he froze mid-sentence, and his eyes got kind of deer-in-the-headlight-ish when he spotted me reclining on Kurt's bed with Kurt's latest issue of _Vogue_ open in front of me.

Finn tucked his chin, and stammered something like, "Never mind, talk to you later." and slammed the door.

_What? That sorry assed son of a bi... (liked Finn's mom)...biscuit eater! Was I now, some unclean concubine he couldn't be bothered to say hello to, much less be in the same room with? Oh, hell no._

Kurt barely paused in his rhapsodizing about this Blaine kid, who was in some singing group named after some kind of bird _(and __I __thought __**Kurt **__was __embracing __his__ homosexuality__)_. "Wonder what's up with Finn..." Kurt murmured and then shrugged, "Well, I'm sure he'll tell me eventually. After all, I'm about the closest thing he has to a friend that's a girl," Kurt chuckled at his cleverness. It _was_ funny, but it stung a little that Kurt didn't think of me as Finn's friend, but then why would he?

As I listened to Kurt go on and on and _ON _about Blaine, I just couldn't help but think that I should take offense at Finn's dismissive behavior towards me. Yes, he had rather embarrassed himself (in a teenage guy's mind, anyway) in front of me, but that was no reason not to exchange a civil _"__Good __day __to __you, G__irl-I've-ground-my-penis-against__"_ greeting to **me**. In fact, I had a right good boiling rage going by the time Kurt dismissed me, so he could Google Blaine. For a split second, I stood outside Kurt's closed bedroom door, mulling over Finn's reprehensible behavior. _**No**__-__I __was __not __going __to __let __him __get __away __with __it._ Even if he _was_ mortified by the sight of me, he still owed me the common courtesy of a greeting when he saw me.

I marched purposefully to the door I knew to be Finn's bedroom door and raised my balled up fist to knock on it, his face not being handy at the moment. _Then __I __heard __it._ A sort of a broken sob. _What __in __hell's __bells? _ His door wasn't exactly, precisely closed all the way either. Okay, I sort of pushed it open a little, but what the heck?

Finn was sitting on his bed with his head in his hands and he was... crying. I hadn't seen a guy cry that often. You'd think being the daughter of two well-adjusted gay dads that I would have seen men cry more. Only once, when Barbra was denied her Oscar for Best Actress in _A __Mirror __Has __Two __Faces, _had I seen my dads cry. I was 2 at the time, and it was one of my earliest memories.

Anyway, Finn "Top-male, Manly-man" Hudson was sitting on his bed sobbing like a...**a ****girl**. _Oh, __how __could __I __be __mad __at __him __for __his __rude __behavior __when __faced __with __this?_ I stepped gingerly over the unidentifiable dirty laundry on his floor to gently sit next to him on his bed and put an arm around his shoulder.

He jumped at least 4 inches when he looked over at me, with tears on his cheeks. I seemed to always catch him at his most vulnerable. Poor fellow. I tried my kindest look, "Finn, whatever it is, it can't be that bad. Do you want to talk about it? I find that sharing my problems with a sympathetic frien...err... person really helps make them seem less daunting." _(My shrink __would __be _**_so _**_proud __of __me!)_

He shook his head violently in the negative. I sighed, "Okay, but I can be a very good listener when I need to be, just ask Kurt." _Whatever. __Didn't __need __anyone __else's __shit __to __deal __with __when __I __had __enough __of __my __own __going __on._

I moved to stand and leave, when his big hand shot out and landed on my bare knee, and he muttered, "Wait!"

_Oooo...hello, __tingles._ Then he snatched his hand away like I had the plague. _Ouch!_

"You being a girl and sort of cool..." _What __a __fucking __charmer __this __guy __was! _ "And I think I can trust you and all, you might be the best one to ask..." He paused. I was looking over at him like yes...continue.

"Could a girl, say, in a hot tub with a guy who was sort of prone to early... Oh, just forget it...it's crazy to ask you this..." he leaned over and dug his hands in his hair looking at the floor.

_Okay, __honestly, __I __wasn't __leaving __his __room __until __I __knew __the __rest, __even __if __I __had __to __tie __him __to __his __bed __and __tickle __him __until __he __gave __in __and __told __me __all._

"If it will help, I swear that I won't tell anyone. Not even Kurt." I glanced around his room for a Bible or Torah or something to swear on. _Who __was __I __kidding? _ I picked up the nearest book-like thing I could find, the _Playboy_ magazine peeking out from under his mattress.

"Here!" I exclaimed, flipping to the centerfold and putting my hand palm down on it, "I, Rachel Barbra Berry, swear on Miss July's breasts that I will not tell a soul, living or dead, about Finn Hudson's deep, dark, dire secret that has him so upset. There! Are you satisfied? Eww... why is this sticky? Never mind, I _really_ don't want to know."

As I tossed the magazine in the floor, I felt so impressed with myself because Finn actually laughed. He truly was upset, but I had made him laugh anyway.

He kept looking straight at the ugly brown rug under his feet but he started talking, "Hypothetically speaking, if a guy umm...did what I did with you in the tire shop the other day, but in say a hot tub instead. Could that like...uhh...get a girl pregnant?"

_Okay, __just __stab __me __in __the __heart, __why __don't __you, __you __horny, __no-good __Lothario. __**Get **__**a **__**grip, **__**Rachel! **__You __are __here __in __the __friend-that-is-a-girl __capacity, __not __as __the __girl __he __once __hooked __up __with._

"Just so I understand..." I began carefully, "Was the situation similar to the tire shop with clothing on or...?"

He thought for a second. I was really rethinking his tool-status again. _Damn._

"Clothes on, like bathing suits, but ..." he said and rolled his hand in a forward motion, "Under hot water for both the girl and the guy?"

"So, the guy and girl were in a hot tub, and the guy came, but there was no penetration what-so-ever?"

Finn looked a little confused, so I explained, "The guy did not put his penis in the girl's um..."

"No, definitely not," he answered immediately.

_Had he slept through **all** of sex ed or what?_

"Then I would have to say most definitely not," I replied primly, "Unless the girl were say the Virgin Mary, and God were involved."

Finn looked alarmed at this, so I laid it all out there for him, "Finn, you can't knock a girl up with 400 gallons of hot water between your sperm and her vagina. Seriously."

You never knew how Finn Hudson was going to react. First, he looked really like stay-of-execution relieved, but then he went immediately to red hot poker pissed off. He stood up fists clenched and kicked his nearby desk chair so hard that it hit the wall and made a big dent.

_O-kay.__Time __to __go. _ I stood up, but he was already at his door, saying, "I'm sorry I have to go somewhere, but thanks for... just... Thanks!" And he was gone.

Well... that conversation was both unexpected and genuinely unsatisfying! Had he thought he got a girl pregnant (read Quinn Fabray for girl) by having an orgasm with her in a hot tub? Did that mean Quinn Fabray_** was**_ pregnant with his baby, though obviously not from the hot tub incident? _What a... a... __**t**__**ool**__!_

I stomped (quietly) out of the Hudson-Hummel house. _ I didn't need this shit!_ I was in my Bug with the keys in the ignition before I started crying. _Was __I__ that __stupid? _ Had I really thought that what Finn and I had done in the tire shop was special or magical or that we were going to live happily ever after making little fat rosy-faced babies? _Ick!_

There and then I made a vow to myself. No matter how hot a guy was, there was no way I was **_ever_** letting him fix my flat tire again. So, before school the next day when I was in the parking lot, I took my mini pocket knife I kept in my car for emergencies, and I very stealthily walked over to Finn Hudson's truck, and I stuck it as deep as I could in his front tire. Well, at least _he_ had a spare.

* * *

_Note: Please don't be too mad at Rachel, she will atone for her misdeeds in time._

_And..._

_As Rachel would say: reviews are like orgasms- you can't have too many._


	4. Always Test Your Pepper Spray

**I'm so grateful to all my readers for their reviews, alerts, and favorites- Thank you!**

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**Baby's Got the Bends**

**Part 4- Always Test Your Pepper Spray and Other Lessons**

"_Needs to be open to new perspectives_" Dr. Shrink-Wrap had fucking crossed the line when he wrote that in my file this week. I was so open, that I could be a damn 24 hour Wal-Mart that tolerated the freaks that came in dressed in full bunny costume, complete with ears and a tail, for frozen cookie dough and tampons at 3 am in the the fucking morning. _ (Okay, that was me on Halloween last year, but I had PMS, so some latitude should be given.) _I think my dads were wasting their money on this psych ward reject, though. I sure wished I could make $250 a damn hour just to tell someone what they already knew, or something that was a creation of my own twisted, scary-place mind. I already knew I was pretty good at making shit up, since I'd been doing it for years when people asked me where my mom was. It's amazing how sympathetic people can be when you tell them your mother was eaten by cannibals in Sub-Saharan Africa while doing missionary work. I'd gotten countless free ice creams that way as a kid.

In other news, McKinley High was all abuzz over the shocking scandal that power couple Quinn Fabray and Finn Hudson had smashed on the rocks of fleeting high school romance. It was even rumored that a certain quarterback and head cheerleader were seen screaming at each other outside the head-cheerleader's house last Wednesday night. _Well, that couldn't be good for the baby, all I have to say. Can't Mommy and Daddy just get along?_ I had to admit, that Finn did _not_ look like the proud papa-elect. The couple of times I happened to see him at a distance, he looked sad and rather depressed, but I steeled my heart. He'd made his bed, _probably had sex in it_, and now it was time for him to sleep in the damn wet spot.

This was easy for me to tell myself in my (slightly more) rational daylight hours, but in the deep, dark nights, I would find myself tossing and turning in _my_ bed, remembering how his body felt against mine, how he seemed so innocent and confused when we talked about his err...mishap in the hot tub with Quinn. The doubts I had about the absurdity of it all were heavy. He certainly _acted_ like he and Quinn hadn't actually had sex, _like __ever_. Guys could be incredibly good actors when they were faced with unexpected fatherhood, but I really didn't think Finn was _that_ good an actor.

I remained silent all week about my inside knowledge regarding the rift between Finn and Quinn, which wasn't hard, since I was half-pissed and half- heartbroken about the whole thing. I figured a flat tire was more than enough revenge. I didn't even get the guilty pleasure of watching Finn find his tire flat by my hands. His truck had been gone by the time I walked to my car that day after dance practice. I still felt twinges of shame and guilt about my impulsive knife work, but I figured I'd get over it. _Or maybe not._

All of a sudden my life had more drama than a TV reality show, and I was_ not_ enjoying it, not one little bit. The cherry on top of it all came a little over a week after my hot tub/sex education talk with Finn. Apparently, Finn was too distracted by his possible impending fatherhood to notice that his step-brother had become the victim of a real twisted mister on the football team by the name of Dave Karofsky. The enormous right guard, or whatever the hell position he played, was a genuine homophobe. I suspected he had his reasons, as in 'the lady doth protest too much,' if you get what I'm saying. So, Karofsky had taken to tormenting Kurt as an outlet for his own fucked up issues with his own sexuality.

I had started hanging around Kurt's locker more and driving him home almost every day, since Karofsky was slightly less of a dick when I was around. So far he had just been making lame homosexual jokes about Kurt and getting in Kurt's face a little bit, but I did not like the look in his eye. The guy was built like a damn brick wall and probably weighed three-times Kurt and me put together.

So, I was waiting in the parking lot after school for Kurt, when he ran up to my car, his face pale, even for him. "Let's go, Rachel! **Now!**"

"Kurt...what?" and then I saw the asshole Karofsky striding across the parking lot like a shark scenting blood. _Damn, __didn't __need __this __today. _ He had a couple of dudes with him, that I didn't really know- one huge dark-skinned line backer guy and a red-haired hockey player, that I suspected had taken one too many pucks to the head.

"Go ahead and run to Fairy Berry, you queer little piss-ant fuck," Karofsky sneered at Kurt. As I heard my hated nickname, my knuckles turned white on the cartridge of pepper spray I'd reached into my car to grab.

When I turned back around again, holding the cartridge behind me, the three big thugs were looming over Kurt and me. _Ah, __shit. _ I popped the safety strap of my spray to rest my finger over the trigger. _Where __were __high __school __administrators __when __you __needed __them, I ask you?_

"Just back off, Karofsky and take your goons with you," I said with more bravado than I felt. _Man, these were some** big** gorillas._

Karofsky laughed evilly, "Stay out of this, Fairy Berry, you queer lover. Maybe Kurtina swings both ways," His friends chortled snidely next to him.

Kurt... well, Kurt had had enough, and suddenly he just _snapped!_ He went at Karofsky, arms flailing and actually landed a pretty good slap across his tormentor's face. The other two guys were so shocked at Kurt's berserker move, that they stepped back. Karofsky stood looking at Kurt like one of those Looney Tunes bulls that goes after Bugs Bunny after seeing red. _This __could __**not** __end __well! _I made a split-second decision and whipped the pepper spray from behind my back and sprayed it in Karofsky's general direction. _Should have practiced using the damn thing,_ because the stream of spray seemed to produce the opposite effect of what I intended when it landed mainly on the front of his letterman jacket.

"Fucking bitches, you'll pay for that! The both of you..." he snarled, droplets of his spit landing on my outstretched arm. I would have been really grossed out if I hadn't been so terrified. He did start coughing a little and his eyes were even redder than they had been before, if that was possible. I braced myself for the worst, holding the spray in my shaking hand in front of me. Well, I could always go with Plan B and kick him in the junk. Spray then kick or kick then spray? _I __hated __these kinds of __decisions!_

Suddenly, like an avenging angel, Finn Hudson was standing between Kurt and me facing the now snorting Karofsky. "**Back the fuck off, man**," Finn bellowed at him, as he put his arm out to his side, pushing me behind his back. _My __hero..._

Karofsky fumed at Finn, but then he made a grave tactical error, "No wonder Quinn got knocked up by somebody else, you're probably just like your brother, Homo Hudson."

_Whoa. I guess I knew that about Quinn on some level, but really?_

I didn't have long to ponder Karofsky's big announcement. Finn's arm shot out, and he laid the big, mean bully flat, or a least too stunned to fight back, anyway.

Karofsky's two cohorts were now huddled near their fallen leader. "You two want some, too?" Finn spat out with menace. They stood frozen with fear or shock or something. "Didn't think so, take him and go."

Last I saw of Karofsky, he was being led away in a humiliating stupor. _Ah- that was **almost** worth having to go into the witness protection program when Karofsky eventually regrouped and came after our asses._

Finn turned to me and wrapped his strong, now bruised, fingers, around my fist, still unknowingly clutching the pepper spray tightly. "Are you alright, Rachel?" he asked as he gently pried the spray out of my shaking hand. _I think he was afraid I'd go after him next._ "Kurt, you okay?" he looked to his other side at his brother.

Kurt nodded and took a deep shuddering breath. The small crowd that had gathered around to see the excitement was quickly dispersing, along with a few members of the football team standing near my car that had apparently had Finn's back, that I hadn't noticed before.

"I was in the gym lifting weights, when Mike Chang came running in saying Karofsky was in the parking lot about to flatten my brother," Finn explained to no one in particular. "Kurt, what's been going on? I knew he was teasing you a little, but I didn't realize it was anything like this. Why didn't you tell me?"

"You seem to be living your own drama these days," Kurt replied ironically, "Besides Rachel and I were handling it, until today anyway."

A look of guilt flashed in Finn's eyes. _Well, __this __was __a __long, __uncomfortable __silence. __Eesh..._

After a lengthy minute or two, the football coach appeared in the gym doorway near the parking lot and roared at Finn, "Hudson, if you're done socializing, we have a scrimmage session. Think you could grace us with your presence?"

_Where was he when one of his players was about to pound Kurt into the pavement five minutes ago?_ I fumed, as Finn responded, "Be right there, Coach."

"Shake a leg, Hudson. If you aren't on the field in 5 that'll be 10 laps for you."

"Yes, sir, coach" Finn responded like a damn cyborg. _Creepy_._ I just didn't get all this "yes, sir- no, sir" guy bullshit._

Finn looked back at Kurt and me, "I'll do what I can to take care of Karofsky. I think it's time I had a conversation with him about the error of his ways. In the mean time, you two both watch your backs."

He turned to head for the locker rooms, and then seemed to think better of it, turning back to look down at me, "Actually, Rachel, I need to talk to you. Could I, like, call you later or something?"

I nodded rather dumbly._** Call me? **_ _Completely ignored me for more than a week, yet now he was __**calling me**__?_

"I was going to ask Rachel for dinner tonight anyway, so you could talk to her then," Kurt said helpfully.

"Great. See you later then," Finn gave me a tight smile before running off towards the gym door leading to the locker rooms.

Hours later, Kurt had deserted me to call his big crush, Blaine, while I slogged through my Alegbra 2 homework laying across Kurt's bed. I again heard the characteristic slam of the front door of the Hudson-Hummel house. I even recognized the treads on the steps to be Finn's, _how pathetic was I?_

Finn peered through the crack in Kurt's doorway, "Good, you're still here. I saw Kurt on his phone downstairs. Let me grab a shower. I was too busy threatening to beat the crap out of Karofsky to get one after practice. Be right back." He was already pulling off his football t-shirt as he walked towards the bathroom, giving me a fabulous view of his muscular back and lean waist. Oy!

Kurt's room was just across the hall from the bathroom he and Finn shared. I knew this because Kurt had once complained that Finn must be using Kurt's $30 a bottle shampoo for unintended purposes of the masturbatory variety. At the time, when Kurt told me this, I had laughed hysterically.

_Not so funny now._ I heard the shower turn on. I could picture Finn stripped naked, big body flexing as water ran over him. Finn's soapy hands moving over his chest, down his stomach, to his impressively turgid phallus. _Rachel Berry, future porn writer._ I squirmed uncomfortably on Kurt's bed as the walls of my vagina fluttered hopefully. _Enough!_ I stood up and paced Kurt's room. Finn might not have a baby on the way, but that didn't mean he was interested in me, Rachel Berry the social pariah. Our time in Burt's garage flashed through my head, and I pushed it back into a dark corner.

Five minutes later, my pacing stopped abruptly, as I stood stock-still in Kurt's doorway. The bathroom door had opened across the hall, and there was Finn. _A lot of Finn!_ - Barely covered by a towel slung around his hips, clinging there with little more than a hope and prayer. I took in his broad shoulders, damp muscular chest, and then moved southward over his other, even more impressive, topography mostly hidden by the (damn) towel.

While I was standing there gaping, Finn gave me the crooked half smile. _Oh, sweet Vestal Virgins! What was wrong with me? He wasn't mine to ogle. When would I get that in my head?_

"I'll be right back, that is... unless you'd like to come help me pick out a clean t-shirt," he teased in sort of husky voice. My eyes were probably the size of dinner plates. "Just kidding," he chuckled as he started to stride away with way too much swagger for my liking.

_Who was he to think that he could taunt me in such an impertinent manner?_ I was Rachel Berry. Before he knew it, I stepped up quickly behind him, placing two fingers under his towel at the back and whipped it off with a flourish. _All_ his cheeks were blushing as I attempted to twirl his towel in my hands, and snap his bare ass with it while he ran down the hallway to his room. _Oh, that was fun!_ _ And __**what **__a view. Hell, yeah! The bitch was back._

When Finn came back to Kurt's room a few minutes later, he was fully clothed complete with a clean t-shirt, much to my disappointment. He walked in and sat down across the room from me in Kurt's wheeled desk chair, while I sat cross-legged on the bed. His face had a serious expression now.

"Rachel, did you knife my truck tire?" _**Oh, crap**. Busted. And what to say- because I was hurt and thought that you knocked up your girlfriend while messing around with me at the same time, you two timing ass. Gah!_

"Finn, I'm so sorry," I started, _always good to start with an apology when you're in the wrong_, "I was angry...I never should have done it. I'll pay for a new tire."

"I thought we were friends," he looked sadly at me, "I trusted you. This is how you repay me?"

_I'm not sure which stung more the "friend" part or my own guilt._

"Some friend you are, Finn. You tell the girl you hooked up with that you _might_ have knocked up your girlfriend, around the same time you were messing around with me ...uhh.. her. Whatever."

_There I went again with the damn disconnect between my brain and my mouth. Officially mortified._

Finn looked flustered, "I didn't...That is, Quinn told me it was because of the hot tub ... but it isn't mine. I _never_ had sex with her, and I Googled the hot tub thing, and you were right. It's a total myth. I am such a tool sometimes."

"Exactly! What I've been saying all along! Umm... I mean... yeah, hot tub pregnancy is a myth." _Whoops! Honestly he could be a tool sometimes, right? And trusted some random website more than me?_

"Listen, please don't tell anyone about Quinn," Finn scooted on the wheels of his chair until he was very close to where I was sitting on Kurt's bed, "Quinn's parents don't even know yet. Although, I guess if that ass Karofsky knows, then it can't be that big a secret."

"Of course I won't tell anyone. Poor Quinn... I can't believe I just said that! And now I feel even worse about your tire. I'm _so_ sorry. I should have talked to you, but you seemed so angry and so out of it. Now, I get that."

"Yeah, Quinn's not the person I thought she was. Lying to me like that... Just so you know, the whole hot tub thing happened weeks ago, long before you and I... at Burt's … and she and I haven't done anything since, honestly," he leaned toward me with an intense look.

_What was he saying? There was more subtext in this conversation than in a Woody Allen film_.

"You knifing my tire bothered me most, I think, because I knew you thought so badly of me. Well... that and it was kind of scary, intense, Rach. But I couldn't say anything about Quinn, because it wasn't my place to tell you. I didn't know if you'd believe me anyway."

"Of course, I would have believed you, Finn, and, yes, I can be a bit scary and intense sometimes," I replied regretfully, "I'm trying to work on that. Y-You care that much about what I think?" I looked at him shyly.

"More than you can imagine," he replied, raising both his hands, so his long fingers rested on either side of my jawline, his thumbs under my chin on my neck brushing over the sensitive skin there. _Oh... shiver!_

"When you kissed me in the parking lot and then again at Burt's... _God, Rachel_, it felt like... All I can think about is doing it again. Shit." he looked down at my mouth. "My heart's pounding harder now than when I've run two miles at practice. It's always like that with you when we kiss..."

I brushed my lips with my tongue at the delicious memories of our kisses. Leaning in to him, I put my hands on his chest over his heart, and felt the rapid tattoo there. "Well, then kiss me..." moving my mouth close to his, so my next words were a soft breathy whisper over his lips "...if you want to."

* * *

_Was I mean to stop here? Always leave them wanting more, as they say, or at least I hope you want more. Let me know, puh-lease!_


	5. Tool and Retool

**Warning: Contains explicit language and some sexual references. **

**Thanks so much for all your reviews!**

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**Baby's Got the Bends**

**Part 5- Tool and Retooled**

"_Ambivalence __towards __the __opposite __sex __of __subject's __age __group __may __cause __intimacy __issues_." Now, let me dissect Dr. Shrinkage's latest analysis of Rachel Berry's (that's me) sex life. Ambivalence means, last I checked, "state of having simultaneous, conflicting feelings toward a person or thing." Hello, I am a sixteen year old socially awkward girl and generally pissed off most of the time. It seems to me that ambivalence would define me and just about every other teenager in the world unless they live in a monastery in the Tibetan Himalayas with no other teenagers for miles around. Even _then_ I think some ambivalence could be managed. Has the good (really bad actually) doctor been around any guys my age lately? Even the ones I can stand on a daily basis tend to have the mental capacity of 300 pound gorilla, especially when sex was somehow in the equation. Interesting aside: I read somewhere that the male gorilla's penis is only an inch and a half long. _Now __**that **__is __one __tiny __tool._ Can you imagine how traumatic _that_ would be for the average teenage male human? Really makes a girl think (and be supremely grateful she is **not** a female gorilla!). _Gigantic, __enormo-gorilla __with __**itty-bitty **__tool. __Ha!_

_Moving __on:_ My sex life was just fine and dandy, so thank you very much for your concern, doctor. Rather, I was sort of seeing a new fella by the name of Finn Hudson, who incidentally had a tool orders of magnitude bigger than a gorilla's _(Huzzah!)_, so... things had the _**prospect**_ of being earth-shatteringly fantastic, once we reached our sexual um... fruition. -Like my first kiss with Finn Hudson, when we were both _finally_ free, single, consenting teenagers, and he'd dumped his skank of a girlfriend. Well, how to describe that kiss...

Finn "The Sexy Giant" Hudson has a wicked, wicked mouth, and I'm _so_ not referring to when he's speaking. Let me back up a bit...We were sitting together in Kurt's room after a rather soul baring conversation. I was sitting on Kurt's bed, and Finn was nearby, leaning close to me. I had just whispered against Finn's lips, "...then kiss me...if you want to."

It was a sort of sexy dare on my part. _Never __dare __a __competitive __athlete __unless __you're __prepared __to __follow __through. __**F**__**ortunately, **__**I **__**was**__. _ Our lips seemed to hover over each others for a few long moments, but it was almost like there were little static charges zinging back and forth in the small space between us. My lips actually tingled. I smelled his toothpaste on his breath along with the very Finn-ness clean smell of him from his recent shower. His eyes were half-closed, seeming almost sleepy, as he looked down at my mouth, his object. His hands were on my face along either side of my jaw, but his thumbs were extended, rubbing delicate, lazy circles at my throat below my chin. He could feel me swallow, I'm sure. I felt like he was holding me in his hands, and he was in a way. I wasn't sure my neck would have supported my head at that moment, I felt so drugged by his unconscious sensuality.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, his lips touched corner of my mouth, then slid softly across my lower lip, the friction was excruciatingly soft. I didn't know lips could nip, but his did, as he pulled my lower lip between his with the slightest suction. I think at this point my mouth dropped open on a little gasp. Here, I had always made mental jokes about his mouth hanging open. Well, he had his revenge- at least a little. He took his advantage over my parted lips, tangling his lips with mine in fleeting kisses. The tip of my tongue reached out unconsciously for his, just the merest touch, and the taste of his toothpaste, cinnamon and Finn. He inhaled softly, as he deepened our kiss by sliding his tongue against mine. I was completely enthralled, his strong tapered fingers moved in a path down my neck to wrap around my head and tangle in my hair to bury themselves close to my scalp, kneading the back of my head.

This slow seduction was frustrating and incredibly arousing. He had barely touched me really, yet I felt ready to explode, as he had in Burt's Garage. _Confusing. __Baffling._ This was a different Finn, holding his desire in check. He seemed more interested in teasing responses from _me_. I fell back on the bed with Finn hovering above me, part of his weight pressing me into the mattress, as he trailed a path of kisses over my throat to the little dip between my collar bones. He brushed his thumbs there with his long fingers of both his hands splayed over my chest, inching lower towards my breasts. _Oh, __yes please..._

Suddenly, somewhere in the sexual fog, I heard my best friend's shrill voice ringing like a warning buoy, "Oh, Good Lord! **Finn!** You have your own room. If you are going to defile my best friend, please be kind enough to do it elsewhere."

A hot flush crept up my neck, and my cheeks flamed. _Kurt had caught us making out on his bed! Oops. _I quickly sat up and looked sheepishly at Kurt, who was currently faking a case of offended sensibilities, and then risked a glance at Finn. That powerful half-smile of his at such close range directed at **me**, made my belly (_or __some place __a __bit __lower) _ lurch with desire.

"Sorry, Kurt," the timbre of Finn's voice was deeper than usual, "Forgot where we were for a minute." I almost reached up and kissed him again, but I turned my head at the last instant, my temple resting against his lips.

"Rachel Barbra Berry, what _is_ the matter with you? Control yourself... at least until you're out of my room. Out! Scoot! And for heaven's sake, put on some music if you're going to make noise," Kurt chided, but I could tell he was pretty happy that his best friend and his step-brother had hooked up. I knew I was going to hear endless versions of: "I brought you two together. I just knew you'd be perfect for each other."

I shot Kurt a contrite smile as Finn took my hand and led me from the room and down the hall to his own. _Awkward, __much? _ I stood in the center of Finn's room, looking around me but not really seeing. My heart was tripping madly. I took a couple of calming breaths trying to grip my skittering thoughts.

"Finn," I spoke for the first time since our kiss, and was startled by how husky my voice was, "What just happened? That was...mind-blowing and it was just a …."

"It was our first _real _kiss," he finished, "I wanted to make it special. Not that the kisses in the tire shop and in the parking lot weren't great, but this was our new beginning, I hope. Just for us. No one else to come between us. I've been thinking about that kiss for weeks."

He seemed embarrassed when he looked down at me, still holding my hand, he squeezed my fingers in his large calloused palm, his almond shaped eyes twinkling, "You think it's silly, I can tell."

I shook my head quickly, "Not at all. I was just thinking that you called _me _scary and intense. Back at you, buddy."

He laughed, "I hope you mean that in the same way I did when I said it about you."

"If _you_ mean that you are in danger of making me spontaneously combust, then we mean the same thing."

"Ah, but I already have exploded being near you... in the tire shop, remember?" he teased. _I __was __so __happy __he __could __joke __about __it __now_, "I think that's one of the things that makes you special. I don't feel like you're judging me or measuring me up."

"I see you, Finn Hudson," I pressed myself lightly against him, _Ooh! __I'd __have __to __be __careful wit__h __that. __Yipes! _ and arched my neck to look up at him, "I like what I see, warts and all."

"Warts?" he pouted playfully, "I don't have warts."

"Well, little endearing flaws, then," I conceded.

"I'm not sure I want to hear those yet … or ever."

"Well," I trailed my fingers over his t-shirt covered chest, "You're very tall... but I'm thinking of taking a poll dancing class, so I can climb up there and cause some trouble."

"You already do, Rach, cause trouble that is, but the class sounds like an interesting idea." Again with his lopsided grin. _Arghh... Did he even know what that did to me?_

Okay, this was nauseating- _just a little_, anyway. _When did I become the sappy girl who was all over a guy?_ Sigh. When I kissed Finn Hudson, that's when. I was almost glad when Finn's mom called us all to dinner not long after. I was starting to squirm in my own skin.

* * *

Latest gossip at McKinley High had star quarterback, Finn Hudson hooking up with social nobody and self-proclaimed freak, Rachel Berry. _Gasp!_ _It's the end of the world as we know it! Repent now and ye shall be saved._

I felt like a minor celebrity all of sudden. People actually looked at me in the halls when I walked by, _and what in the__** fuck **__were they looking at?_ I was still the same Rachel Berry who wore teddy bear sweaters to be ironic. I still was the height of a tall fifth grader, and I still winced (usually inwardly now) when a Cheerio walked by. Friends I never knew I had were coming out of the damned woodwork. Noah Puckerman, bad boy football player in my 4th block keyboarding class, actually spoke to me the other day, and it wasn't to beg me to type his latest assignment.

"Hey, Berry," Puck stage whispered across our lab desks, "I hear you and Finn are making with the nasty. Never thought you'd go for a Gentile, but if it makes your panties toasty, who am I to judge," he shrugged before continuing, "You know Finn considers me his wingman and best friend, right? So if you ever need _anything_, good ol' Puck is here for you." He smirked and shot me a look that, I suppose, I was expected to swoon over. _Ugh, I needed a shower!_

Noah was a whole different breed of tool, but I'd always thought him generally harmless, if you didn't let him get too close behind you when you were bending over wearing a short skirt or wander into any broom closets alone with him.

"That's so nice of you, _Noah_ ," I cooed sweetly, as he winced over his hated first name, "If I'm ever lying around the house bare-ass naked because I'm washing all my lingerie at one time..." I simpered at him playfully, while pursing my lips over the top of my pencil "...I'll be sure to call you..." he looked a little hot and bothered at this "...to drive Finn over, since you're _such_ a good friend."

"Ha-ha, Berry. So funny. We Jews should stick together, you know, " he pouted.

"Cut the crap, Puck," I said sternly, "You've never looked twice at me until you thought Finn might be playing with my Gefilte fish and latkas."

"Now...there you're wrong, Ms Berry," Puck leaned close to me and brushed his index finger lightly over my cheek, "I've always known you were like sneaky, covert, Black-Ops hot. Besides you're Jewish. My mother would just lo-ve it if I took up with one of our own kind."

_Huh. Well, learn something new everyday._ Leaning away from him,_ the boy must have had lox for lunch- blech,_ my gaze moved away from Puck and, there, in all his glory, standing in the doorway of my lab, was Finn, staring laser beams at little old me. Mmmm... that man could make me want to drop my drawers at 10 paces. _Well, not yet, but, hopefully some day soon_. Casting off my Finn-sex daydream _(I had those** a lot** these days!)_, I stared back at him and noticed he looked a little off or something, like kinda pissed. I tried a cheerful smile and got sort of a grimace in return complete with the jigging eyebrows, before he did a 180 in the hallway and stalked off.

Well, maybe he didn't want to bother me in class. I'd see him after school at his locker anyway. I could ask him what was up then. I didn't like to admit it, even to myself, but I really looked forward to the times when we could hang out throughout the day. I wasn't comfortable with much PDA, but it was just so incredible to talk with him and just be with him. _Yes, I'm a sap._

So, after 5th block, I walked up to Finn who was digging in his locker and shot him a secret little smile, "Hey, lover, how was your day?"

He barely looked up from the contents of his locker, which wasn't _that _interesting, I could tell you. "Okay." He shrugged, "Listen... could you, like, catch a ride with Kurt today? I've got something I have to do."

"Sure, no problem," I replied as a little twitch of concern played across my brain. "Coach call an extra practice in honor of the big game on Friday?" _Shocker! I had become an avid football fan in less than two weeks._ I even went to the games and sat in the stands with Kurt and his parents and tried to act interested when Burt blathered on about some great play that was totally lost on me. It still looked like a bunch of overgrown schmucks (_Finn excluded, of course_) trying to beat the living shit out of each other to me, which was kind uncomfortable when one's love interest was in the middle of all the carnage. I admit, every once in a while, I had to clamp my eyes shut and go to my happy place, where Finn didn't have his spine laying next to him on the turf.

"No-o," Finn looked at me with... I knew that look- it was... guilt. I _was_ Jewish, after all.

Just then the co-captain of the bitch squad sidled up next to Finn- Santana Lopez, Cheerio- hot-as-fuck with a questionable sexual orientation, which made her even hotter to most of the guys in school. I couldn't help it, my eyes narrowed.

"You ready, Finn," Santana murmured huskily standing awfully close to Finn- _my Finn_. Well, sort of my Finn.

"Yeah, let's go, Santana." Finn didn't even really look at me, as he muttered, "See you," in my direction and started to walk off. I was balls-on **howling** on the inside, I tell you.

"See you, Dingle Berry," Santana leaned in to whisper as she walked past.

_Well, I guess that was fun while it lasted. I hoped Santana Lopez would give Finn such a ragging case of the clap that his man parts would shrivel up and fall off!_

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading! Rachel would say I'm a review slut because I need more, please!_


	6. The Slap That Was Heard Around the World

_Author's Notes:_

_Well, I have to admit that Rachel may have gotten away from me a little bit in this one. Let me know what you think. A special nod to theluckyclover for her revenge suggestions._

**_Warning: Contains language of the colorful variety due to Rachel's (and others) potty-mouth._**

_Part 5 Summary: Finn and Rachel begin a relationship of sorts, but then it all goes awry when Finn, for reasons of his own, is distant to Rachel and goes off with Santana after school. Rachel does not take it well._

* * *

**Baby's Got the Bends**

**Part 6- The Slap That Was Heard Around the World**

"_Issues with anger, needs to curb impulsive, self-destructive behavior" _ Dr. I-Hate-my-Fucking-Prick-of-a-Shrink wrote in my file this week. Honestly, why did I even bother to give myself neck pain attempting to read the utter shite the anal retentive moron scribbled about me on his little pad? Why did I even fucking care? So what if I knocked the butt-ugly pencil holder thing his 6 year-old had made at Boy Scout camp last summer in the floor, smashing it to smithereens when he made the mistake of asking how my "new boyfriend" was. Finn Hudson had _**never**_ risen to the level of boyfriend during my weekly inquisitions. He was always "this guy I hang out with" or "the tool I was considering letting in my panties."

My dad had a cheesy saying he often repeated: _Denial is a river in Egypt._ It seemed applicable when Finn blew me off like a hurricane after school at his locker and trotted off with the most promiscuous girl at our school (and maybe the entire state of Ohio). After Kurt dropped me off at my house with a sympathetic look, I spent the afternoon trying so hard not to picture what they would be doing together. True, I didn't know for a fact that they were making with the bunny sex, but Finn had looked so guilty when I innocently inquired about his after school plans, and then Santana Lopez had shown up. Finally, around 7:30 that evening, I gave up on denial and sailed my ass directly to pissed. Who was Finn Hudson to blow me off for some loose piece of Cheerio ass? Fuck'im, I say. He was so not worth it, and back to that damn river in Egypt I went. At least I felt a tiny bit better. Denying you care is a helluva lot easier than denying someone is breaking your heart by being a two-timing snake.

So, I did what I so often do when I'm about to run into the wilderness screaming, never to be seen again, from the suckiness of it all- I grabbed my heeled dance shoes and headed for the Jewish Seniors Ballroom Dance Night at my temple. Somehow, dancing the cha-cha and the mambo with seventy and eighty-somethings seemed to put all my petty shit into perspective. Mr. Fedderman, a balding tax attorney who was eighty, if he was a day, greeted me in the doorway with a toothy smile, dentures gleaming, "Rachela, it's been a few weeks. How's my dance partner? Have you missed my smooth moves?"

I laughed at his teasing. This was our routine, and it was soothing, "Now, Mr. Fedderman, you don't want to make Mrs. Holberg jealous do you? She only loans you to me for the tangos when her new hip is giving her fits."

"Ah- that old bat wouldn't know a tango from a merengue. Besides, her grandson is picking her up early tonight, so we'll get at least two dances," his bright eyes twinkling at me. For an old dude, he sure liked the ladies. I shuddered to think what he was like when he was my age- probably, another Noah Puckerman. For some reason the thought of Puck at eighty made me chuckle to myself, he'd probably manage to get it on with half the ladies at his retirement home.

I started with a foxtrot with Mrs. Schmidt, a 78 year old widow who had like 20 cats. Gentlemen were sometimes in short supply, since somehow they seemed to go toe up before their wives, so I had learned to lead in a lot of the dances. It was certainly a change of pace to be stepping slowly around the room to a jazzy Gershwin number, listening to Mrs. Schmidt go on about how Fluffy, her Persian, had to be taken to the vet for eating her face cream. I managed to forget all about Finn "Needs to be Neutered" Hudson for a good 45 minutes. I was finishing a promised tango with Mr. Fedderman, when I glanced up, and there was Noah Puckerman, wearing a huge smirk, standing on the side of the room next to Mrs. Holberg. Noah went to my temple, but I never knew his grandmother to be Mrs. Holberg. Must be his mom's mom.

Mr. Fedderman finished our tango near Mrs. Holberg, and addressed her with a flirty wheeze, "What do you say, Ada? Quick waltz before you let this young fella take you home?"

Off the two octogenarians spun, leaving me to stand awkwardly with Puck. Crap. My day just kept getting better and better. Noah tilted his chin down regarding the waltzing couple and then me under his rather bushy brows, "Why do I feel like I should keep an eye on that guy around my bubbe? How about a twirl, Berry?"

As my mouth probably dropped open with shock, Noah explained, "Bubbe made me take dance lessons for my Bar Mitzvah. In fact she insisted on it, said it was essential to the upbringing of a gentleman or something." His expression at this was ironic to say the least.

"You must have her so snowed…" I quipped, as I assumed the position for a waltz, placing my hands in his.

Puck was taller than me_ (who wasn't over the age of 12?)_, but not nearly so much taller like Finn. He twirled me in ¾ time with the classical waltz music of Khachaturian. He was certainly much more spry than most of my other partners, so I was actually enjoying myself. He was even being the gentleman his bubbe thought he was- he didn't try to grab my ass or anything. Just hearing him call someone Bubbe made me want to laugh.

"You know, Puck, the waltz was considered shocking and indecent when it was first introduced in Vienna in the late 1700's. Such an appropriate dance for you," I teased.

"You would know that, Berry. Give me a good old freak dance grind over this for shocking, any day," he grinned down at me then looked around, "Although, this crowd might break something trying that shit. Be almost fun to try it, though wouldn't it?" He swiveled his hips ever so suggestively during a turn.

"Don't you dare, Noah Puckerman," I laughed and archly asked, "What would your bubbe say?"

"She'd say I'm like my dad, that's what she'd say," Puck looked a little glum at this. Then he seemed to find his swagger again, "But after all, I** _am_** a Puckerman," and before I knew what he was about, Puck had me practically standing on my freaking head in a deep dip, and I squealed like the girl I was.

Looking around I noticed the dozen or so couples around us were all watching us to some degree, their expressions mostly those of nostalgia and amusement. I actually blushed. Too much to hope for that their bad eye sight or questionable memories would save me from the teasing I would get next time I showed up for Ballroom Dance Tuesday. Geez, one dance with a guy and they were ready to set up the bridal canopy. This wasn't the old country where arranged marriages were the done thing, for fuck sakes.

I noticed Puck's grandmother studying me with distinct interest and suspicion. Uh-oh.

"I never knew Mrs. Holberg was your grandmother. If I had to guess, I'd say she thinks I have designs on your virtue," my tone all mock seriousness. Then I laughed, "If she only knew..."

He tried for an innocent look, which was down right comical, "I don't know what you're talking about, Berry. I'm a good Jewish boy."

"Puck, you may be Jewish, but I wouldn't call you 'good' by any stretch of the imagination."

"Oh, you should give me a try, Rachel. I can be very 'good' if you give me the chance," Puck leaned in to murmur against my ear. _Sheesh, what an operator._

"Try selling that to someone who's buying, Puckerman," I responded as the last strains of the waltz faded, and our dance came to an end.

"I get it, you're into Hudson right now."

"I'm not sure of that anymore," I murmured to myself rather pensively. _Ugh.. snap out of it! Saying things like that to Finn's best friend!_ Though admittedly with friends like Puck, who needed enemies? Finn should really work on his taste in associates. Puck seemed more than willing to take up with a girl the Great Hudson himself had appeared to be dating, until this afternoon's weird, mortifying little adventure by Finn's locker, anyway. Out of the blue, a thought occurred to me that made me want throw things at Puck and Finn's heads. _Stupid, stupid, Rachel!_

"Did Finn put you up to your_ sudden interest_ in me? Is that how it works? You take over Finn's leavings?" I was having a little trouble formulating sentences, I was so pissed. Several of the couples around us were starting to stare._ Fuck it._

"What? No!" Puck seemed genuinely offended at my accusation, "In fact, if you had any idea how pissed Finn would be... I'd be the last person he'd ever want you hanging around, especially after... listen, just forget it. See you around, Berry."

With those mysterious comments, he moved rather quickly across the room to where Mr. Fedderman and Puck's grandmother were standing and staring with puzzled expressions on their faces.

I started to go after him to ask him what he meant, but he had already taken Mrs. Holdberg's arm and was leading her towards the exit. What had Puck said? Finn would be pissed if he knew Puck and I were hanging out together? Not like Finn owned me or something, especially after this afternoon. Then an awful idea occurred to me- a **_deliciously_**_ awful_ idea. If I couldn't hurt the heartless bastard that was Finn Hudson, I could at least really piss him off, and barring that, there was always knifing _**all **_his tires this time.

* * *

The nice revenge buzz I had going that night kind of petered out by the next morning at school. For one thing, I was having a lot of trouble with the logistics of my deliciously awful idea, since none of the players in my plan were cooperating. I hate it when a plan _doesn't_ come together!

I finally caught a break at lunch, when I saw Puck striding across the cafeteria, characteristic smirk on his face. I had started sitting with Finn at lunch, but that seemed unlikely, and very much unwanted after yesterday. Time to begin Operation-Piss-Off-Finn-Hudson in earnest. Go!

I called a greeting to Puck. He looked startled that I had called him over, but, in general, pleased to see me. I think we were actually becoming... friends _(I know, shocked the hell out of me, too!)_. Now what? Oh, yes... common interests.

"Puck, do you remember if Mrs. Doughtrey assigned section 8 or section 9 for the key boarding lab? I forgot to write it down."

Puck looked confused at my unusual lapse in conscientiousness. Generally, he was the one who had to ask me our assignments, "Umm... I think it was section 8."

"Section 8, that's right. Now I remember. I think was distracted by our conversation yesterday," I smiled in what I hoped was an airy way. _This Mata Hari shit was hard!_

The revenge gods must have been on my side because several things happened at once to help out my plans. Finn walked into the cafeteria like he owned it _(the prick!)_ scanning the crowds of students until his gaze landed on me, just as Puck sat down at the table across from me with his back to Finn.

I almost missed what Puck said next, "Berry, my bubbe gave me a hard time about you last night. She seems to think that you might have misunderstood...how did she put it? My intentions, that's it."

Finn was still looking in our direction, so I put my hand on Puck's arm and smiled for all I was worth, "Not at all. We're friends, right? It's all good. I like you, but I know that you have the boyfriend potential of JoJo the Chimp. I mean you have a nice smile, and you're pretty entertaining, but that's about all you have to offer me, right."

Puck laughed at this. "Berry, I can't believe I'm saying this, but you are so cool. Most girls would get all pissy and have a bitch of a hissy fit, but not you. Besides, you've got Hudson wriggling on the line. I get it."

I leaned into Puck confidentially, crooking my index finger encouraging him to lean in closer to me, "I'll let you in on a little secret, Puck. To continue your fishing analogy, I'm cutting line on Finn. As it turns out, Finn isn't aptly named, if you get my meaning..." I rolled my index finger in a circular motion, "...as in finish."

Puck looked really confused. _Did all the guys in this school have the intelligence of a bag of hammers? Shee-zus!_ "Puck," I spoke slowly, "he didn't ring my bell...like... _ever._"

"Oh...Oh!" _Yes, ladies and gentleman, he has a pulse._ Puck considered me for a second before saying, "You know you aren't the first girl to tell me Hudson sucks bricks in the sack."

"Really?" I feigned innocent disinterest. _Who was the bitch who had the nerve to disparage my Fi...err... scratch the **my** part...just plain Finn?_

Puck winked at me, "Let's just say, his last chick had to hire a subcontractor to get the job done."

One more cheesy metaphor or whatever and I was going to hurl, seriously. Fortunately, Puck seemed inclined to be on his merry way with a cheeky grin and a wave, "See ya, beautiful."

I was in the middle of processing what Puck meant when he said Finn's last chic needed a subcontractor, when the man himself plopped down in front of me in the seat Puck had just vacated. I know I jumped._ Geez, somebody put a a bell around this one's neck. Cats had nothing on Finn Hudson for stealth. He even looked like a cat that had been sprayed with a garden hose- as in, **really** pissed off. Well, that **had** been my mission, I guess. Somehow the reality wasn't matching the pictures in my daft head when I was dreaming up this whole revenge scheme. What a disappointment._

"I don't know what's going on between you and Puckerman, but as someone who used to care about you, I think I should warn you..."

_Someone who **used** to care about me? What. The. Fuck?_

I got lost somewhere in there, so when I tuned in again to what Finn was saying"...He's only after one thing... so unless you're into making it with every guy you meet on top of tool chest..."

"Wait a damn minute! You're implying the company I keep is questionable, or that I'm some loose bimbo who'll spread them for anybody? Hello, pot! Meet the fucking kettle! I suppose Santana Lopez was only after your chemistry notes yesterday after school," I yelled. _Yes, I was yelling in the middle of the damn McKinley lunch room._

"Biology, actually. We have a project on Moses or something," Finn responded defensively, "And keep your voice down, Rachel."

"You mean, meiosis, as in cell division, I think. You actually expect me to believe that you blew me off yesterday after school for a biology project on sexual reproductive cell division with the Queen of Tramps? Really? Do I look**_ that_** stupid to you?" At least half the cafeteria was watching our little drama unfold while the other half was probably recording it to post on YouTube, but I was too far gone to care.

"Well, we did make out a little, but I stopped it pretty quickly, " Finn shrugged, looking down with a pained expression.

Until then, I never knew you could actually "_see_ _red"_ as the expression goes. The next thing I knew, my palm had connected with Finn Hudson's cheek with a resounding crack. Then deafening, ear-shattering silence all around._ Maybe my shrink was right about impulsive behavior. Gah!_

"Miss Berry, my office now, if you please," Principal Figgins' cultured voice seemed to echo in the otherwise silent lunch room.

* * *

_Author's End Notes: VB would like to say that she did not consciously think of Santana's slap of Finn in last season until after she wrote this update but then decided to leave it in as an ironic homage to actual Glee events. Basically, it just felt like what this Rachel would do. **Too much?** Please review and let me know what you think._

_Puck and Rachel waltz to "Masquerade" by Khachaturian, a Russian composer._


	7. Humidity Can Make a Person Do Crazy Shit

_**Warning: Explicit language and a little hot and heavy in the rain!**_

**Still don't have anything to do with Glee or its characters, which I think is a crying shame.**

**_Part 6 Summary:_**

_Rachel, hurt by Finn's seeming rejection, forms a friendship with Puck. Finn gets all pissy and warns her off Puck, also admitting to "making out a little" with Santana during a study session on meiosis. A very angry Rachel slaps Finn across the face in the school cafeteria in front of everybody, including Principal Figgins._

* * *

**Baby's Got the Bends**

**Part 7- Humidity Can Make a Person Do Crazy Shit**

"_Needs __to __accept __responsibility __for __inappropriate __actions __and __learn from the __consequences __of __those __actions.__"_ Apparently, I was going to be seeing this psychobabbling nitwit _twice_ a week from now on, since my dads learned of my 5 day in-school suspension for slapping Finn "Nothing But Damn Trouble" Hudson. That was just peachy. Dr. Douche and I could knit a fucking afghan together or something. I was just glad my dads hadn't decided to ground my ass or send me to some creepy boarding school or something.

No amount of therapy was going to convince me that my slapping of Finn Hudson's face was anything but justified. Ill-timed- _definitely_, but the King of All Tools had ab-so-lutely deserved it. My only regret, aside from being caught, was that I couldn't clearly remember doing it. You know what they say about temporary insanity? I'd always thought it was a scam to get one's ass out of doing jail time, until it happened to me. After Finn confessed to making out with Santana Lopez "a little," I remember being so mad I wanted to kill him slowly with a plastic cafeteria knife, and next I knew, my palm was burning and his cheek bore the imprint of my fingers on it. Oh, and his mouth was hanging open... again. _Such a tool!_

On the up side, at least I could watch it on YouTube, and there were even catchy titles like "American Girl Doll Takes a Swipe at Godzilla." It had like thousands of views already. _Yay, me!_ I had literally struck a blow for women everywhere against the cheating, no-good fuckwits of the world like Finn Hudson.

I should be Grade-A, pee-in-my-pants happy, right? _Not __so __much, __in __fact __not _**_at _**_**all**._ I was sitting in my car glumly watching it pour down rain after my first day of in-school suspension, waiting for Kurt, who thank God, was still speaking to me, even after I decked his brother. Actually, Kurt had been really cool about it. He said he appreciated my flair for drama, and Finn had needed to be taken down a peg or two, but if I told Finn he'd said that, he would deny it.

Suddenly, a rap on my car window startled me out of my musings about ways I could smuggle my earbuds and iPod into in school suspension tomorrow. There was my new friend, Puck. He smiled and pointed his finger to the passenger side, so I leaned over and unlocked it while he ran around to hop in.

"Hey, Berry, just wanted to check on you after your first day of ISS. Can I get you anything for tomorrow? Magazines, snacks, beer..."

I shook my head dazedly, "How in the fuck would you ever get that stuff in there, Puck? I was just wondering about headphones and my iPod, but Ms Johnson, practically did a body-cavity search on me this morning." I shuddered delicately.

"Sounds like fun," Puck wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, "About the tunage-Consider it done. El Puckerone has got your back. The Warden and I have a working relationship. I've been in ISS so many times, I have my own personal desk, with my name carved into it and everything," Puck said proudly, "Can I just say how bad-assed I think you are, Berry? For a little thing, you have a giant set of cojones. I still can't believe you bitch-slapped Hudson in front of half the school. Sorry I went out to meet that freshman in the courtyard and missed it."

Actually, I was feeling a little sick at the moment. Puck made it sound so... _sordid_. Fortunately, or, in hind-sight unfortunately, I was completely distracted from my self-loathing when Puck proceeded to plant a kiss on my totally unsuspecting lips. Ugh. Lox for lunch- again? Didn't he know about breath mints or whatever? I just sat there really still with my eyes open, and it ended within a couple of seconds.

"Erhm... Puck, unless you want to experience my bitch-slap first hand, don't, like, do that again. Okay, buddy?"

"Gotcha. That was weird, right? Like kissing my cousin. Don't get me wrong, my cousin's wicked hot and a great kisser, but well, we don't do that anymore... Any how, see you, Berry, and you're still my hero!" With that, Puck leapt out of my car.

_Ewww... Could I bleach my brain to remove the memories of the last 60 seconds now?_ And where in the hell was Kurt? I peered out of my now partially fogged up car windows into the rain. No Kurt, but about 10 feet in front of my car just standing there like a lamp post was one Finn Hudson with the oddest expression on his face, rain dripping from his hair and trickling down his face. I knew the minute we made eye contact because his eyes narrowed, and then he just stalked away. So what if Finn saw Puck kissing me. That ship had sailed and was already halfway to Tahiti by now. A part of me hoped Finn would be jealous but whatever- probably too much to hope for.

When Kurt finally did arrive, he did not bring glad tidings, "Rachel, Blaine just texted me that he can go to that Bette Midler movie marathon tonight, so we have to get to the mall for some emergency shopping! I have nothing he hasn't seen. Rachel, are you listening to me? We are at DEFCON 1 here."

Wishing my dads had decided to ground me after all, I spent the next two hours trailing behind Kurt from store to store at the Lima Mall, while he looked for the perfect belt to match Blaine's eyes. Why? I ask you, why did Kurt's belt need to match his boyfriend's sparkly eyes? I didn't think I needed or wanted to know the answer to that.

After the forced march at the mall, I thought I'd just drop Kurt at his house and go home and crawl in a bubble bath to wash the stench of failure that was in-school suspension off of myself, but oh, no! The fun was just beginning. Once back at the Hudson-Hummel household, Kurt insisted we make sure that his new belt matched his shoes that matched his pants... well, why go on? I liked fashion as much as the next girl, but the thought of coming face to face with Kurt's step-brother _(otherwise known as the dreaded Finn)_ made my blood run cold. I just really was not prepared for that shit storm today.

"Rachel, what do you think of this shirt? Does it say young, hot David Bowie or is it just too Duran Duran?" Kurt snapped his fingers at me as I sat captive in his room, "Rachel, what's up with you today? Did ISS suck the intelligence out of your head already?"

"Uhh... let me see the other one again," I mumbled distractedly, praying I hadn't just heard Finn's truck pull up.

"Girl, go home and take a bubble bath or something _(Yes, please!_)," Kurt made shooing gestures with his hands, "Anyway, I need some alone time to channel the Divine Miss M."

Whew! Now- I just had to make it out the front door and down the sidewalk in front of the Hudson-Hummel house and into my car without running into Finn!

Alas, that was not to be. Through the dim rainy twilight, I saw Finn's truck pulling up in the driveway next to my bug, just as I walked out the front door. I almost turned around and ran back to Kurt's room, but I was made of sterner stuff than that. I could walk right by the douchebag like he wasn't even there. Great plan, but then it hit the skids-_ literally_. They must grease their fucking sidewalk for unsuspecting guests, all I'm saying, because I hit a slick spot and went down hard right on my ass. _**Just g****reat! **__**Ow!**_

From my sprawled position on his damn sidewalk, I saw Finn's big-assed shoes first, then my eyes trailed _all_ the way up to his face- at least he wasn't laughing. He had kind of an Oscar the Grouch frown-thing going on, as he said gruffly, "That's the _**second **_time today I've been standing in the rain watching you do something totally stupid."

Finn leaned down towards me and held out his hand to me. I so, so, _**so**_ wanted to just clamber up without any help from him, but that damn sidewalk was like a fucking melted skating rink. I took his hand and tried to ignore the zinging, electric shock feeling I always seemed to get when he touched me. Once on my feet, I moved to hurriedly back away and almost went down again. _Damn __it! __Who __had __I __pissed __off __to __deserve __this? _ Finn grabbed both my elbows to hold me upright.

"Umm... thanks, Finn," my eyes had reached the damp collar of his polo shirt and just wouldn't go any higher. We were so close, I could smell him, and rainy Finn smelled awesome.

I was starting to gingerly back out of his embrace when he said, "Rachel." Just my name, and that was all.

I finally forced myself to look him in the eyes, arching my neck way back, feeling raindrops hit my face. Those eyes, those beautiful squinty eyes were looking back at me with such… pain and... longing. His forehead was so scrunched up, that his eyebrows were almost touching,

I reached out and brushed my fingertips across his wet brow, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. His big hands tightened reflexively around my elbows pulling me decisively closer into contact with his body. _So __warm._ He raised his hands in an upward motion, and I found myself drawn up tight against him. Our mouths connected, wet with rain, in open kisses, devouring kisses. His breathing was harsh and fast on my face. The fingers of both my hands moved to spread over his damp cheeks, where I could feel his muscles moving as his tongue thrust forcefully into my mouth. He wasn't _asking_ for anything this time; he was _taking_ what he wanted, and I wanted him to, so very much.

His arms went around me, and we somehow moved so that I was against my car- I think. It felt wet and cold on my back, even through my skirt and sweater, contrasting sharply with the hot humidity of Finn pressing into the front of me. Without interrupting our deep, succulant kisses, he lifted me up against the hard, slick metal surface behind me, so his erection was pressing into the pulsing crevice at the juncture of my thighs. I arched my back to rub myself against him, the wet, rainy friction almost unbearable. One of his large hands moved around from my back to palm my breast almost painfully through my clinging blouse. I whimpered with pleasure as my nipple puckered into his hand when he teased it with his thumb.

My trembling hands moved to his shoulders, my fingers grasping at the soggy fabric there. Beneath, I could feel his firm muscles, _so __strong. _ I braced myself against him, spreading my thighs further to push myself against the hard length of him as he pushed back into me. _Ohhh...yesss..._ sparks were flying behind my closed eyelids. _How could I despise someone so much yet be so turned on at the same time?_

_Wait __a __minute!_ _This was like bat shit crazy! _ Grinding into Finn Hudson in front of his house, where anyone might see! Thank God it was pretty dark. Never mind, that he admitted just yesterday to making out "a little" with that Cheerio ho. Finally recovering my senses, I shoved at his shoulders hard, pushing with all my strength. He staggered back a step or two, as I slid slowly down the side of my car until my feet touched the ground. I reached behind me to put a hand on my car roof to hold myself up. We were both breathing hard, like we'd been well... practically fucking each other except with our clothes on.

My hand scrabbled over my car door to find the handle, just as Finn said tightly, "Stay away from Puckerman, Rachel."

"You have _**NO**_ right to dictate who I hang out with," I ground out between my gritted teeth, glaring at him fiercely.

"You're wrong," Finn took one step toward me, and I stood my ground, as I was again enveloped in his rainy-Finn scent along with the crazy zapping aura that seemed to swirl around us whenever we were close. Reaching out, he trailed his index finger down over my moist, kiss-swollen lips, gently dragging my lower lip downward as he went, then using his fingertip to tilt my chin up to look intensely into my eyes, "And I think I just proved that I do."

* * *

_Well, didn't Finn go all caveman? Sexy or cretin-like? Please review and tell me what you think._


	8. Stripper? What Stripper?

_**Caution: Rachel just can't seem to clean up her language. **_

_**P****art ****7 ****Summary: **Finn happened to see Puck give Rachel an unwanted kiss. Later, a jealous Finn and a stunned Rachel make-out (and other fun) in the rain against Rachel's car in front of Finn's house. Afterwards, Finn warns Rachel to stay away from Puck, which infuriates her._

* * *

**Baby's Got the Bends**

**Part 8- Stripper? What Stripper?**

"_Will __never __be __truly __intimate __in __personal __relationships __until __allows __self __to __be __vulnerable.__"_ Now- Dr. Sociopathic Perv, who could be my father, was talking about my sex life _again_? At the very least, he could be original and think up new shit for each session. Frankly, he was starting to creep me out with this obsession he had about whether I was getting any. I had one thing to say to the man: Stay the hell away from me, you fucking tick on the butt of humanity!

Besides, being "vulnerable" was for saps who wanted to get their hearts ground up in the meat grinder that was high school, like in that Pink Floyd movie my dads got stoned and watched when they thought I was asleep. Besides, I had tried the vulnerable thing on a small scale with Finn "The Man-Whore" Hudson, and that had just jumped up an bit me on the ass in the form of him admitting he made out with Santana Lopez to me in front of 250 of our closest friends in the school cafeteria resulting in me going semi-postal on his sorry ass and landing myself in in-school suspension.

Here I sat on day 5 of my incarceration, not exactly wallowing in my misery, but damn close. Puck, bless his heart, had managed to get Ms Johnson, keeper of us miscreants in ISS, to turn a blind eye to the earbuds hidden under my hair and the iPod I tucked in my English binder. Somehow my Radiohead and Black Keys playlists didn't provide the solace for my aching teenage soul they usually did. It was like my mind was stuck on repeat with only one song playing over and over and over again, and that song seemed to be "Too Afraid to Love You" by the Black Keys. I would accept death by firing squad before I admitted that many of my minutes spent listening to this song in ISS involved daydreaming about a certain hot, wet, dizzying make-out session against my car with a certain horny giant, that I had sworn to hate (or at least strongly dislike) for the rest of my life on the general principle of his all-around toolish behavior towards me.

Matters weren't helped by the cryptic, barely readable note I found stuck through one of the vent holes in my locker on a recent morning, which said something like:

_(Illegible word) didn't mean anything! Big mistake. Need to talk. Please let me explain. F_

F? As in... Frances or Fuckoid or Fumble? F as in Finn?- As in stomped my heart under his size 13 fucking shoe, Finn Hudson. You think? Well, "Fuck off!" started with F, too! So, I tore the note up into tiny pieces and shoved them in the vent of the mysterious "F's" locker. Hope he enjoyed the confetti. What was this "big mistake that didn't mean anything" shit anyway? Our sexually attacking each other in front of his house? Him making out with Santana? Or perhaps he meant his fuckwitishness in general? Who knew? I seriously doubted that Mr. F even got what he was saying with his incomplete, sloppily-written sentences.

Besides, I had several other problems to be dealing with that didn't involve my love life, or lack there of – not directly anyway. Halloween was coming up in less than 10 days, and I generally loved the holiday and embraced the concept of dressing up as someone other than Rachel Berry, last year's disastrous bunny costume aside. Kurt usually had a small party at his house to celebrate the occasion, where some of us dressed up and got silly doing the cheesy traditional games played at Halloween but with a twist, like instead of bobbing for apples, we bobbed for cucumbers. Watching that game was a particularly suggestive laugh riot of epic proportions. Whoever got a cucumber end on automatically won, by the way.

Well, this year promised to be a different bucket of hell altogether. Kurt had a boyfriend now, so he would be busy hanging all over Blaine, and I was so happy for him, but that would kind of make me the weird beard third wheel. The other complication with this year's Halloween-Do was the fact that apparently, Finn and Kurt were co-hosting the party. This meant that half the McKinley football team, which unfortunately also included Finn, would be there instead of out running amok tossing pee balloons and tp-ing houses. Somehow, bobbing for cucumbers in front of Finn and his friends sounded like a fucking bad idea waiting to happen- well, _**not**_ happening.

"Maybe we should borrow Blaine's karaoke machine," Kurt mused when I was driving him to his house after school a few days before the party. We'd been trying to brainstorm activities for the party that weren't totally lame or just plain weird. "I asked Finn what he thought we should do, and he suggested a drum solo and beer pong," Kurt said as he rolled his eyes at this, "Like my dad and Carole wouldn't notice beer spilled everywhere when they got home from the party they're attending, and _no one_ wants to hear a 1 hour plus version of 'Moby Dick.'"

"But karaoke? Do you think anyone would sing?" I asked doubtfully. I'd been singing for most of my life at my temple, in private voice lessons, and, I'm ashamed to admit, with my Dad's on Song Nights at our house, but almost never around people at school, if you didn't count the pure torture of a very short lived show choir Kurt had talked me into joining freshman year._ Even I drew the line at singing disco. Blech!_ Fortunately, in a freak accident involving the shop teacher and our choir sponsor put an end to the club. The piano had caught fire and burned to the ground after the fire department wheeled it outside. It was good for an afternoon off from school, which was always a plus.

"Blaine says he and his friends from his school have a blast at karaoke parties," Kurt replied. Somehow, I couldn't see a 300 pound linebacker singing "I Kissed a Girl" willingly. Di-sas-ter written all over this. Aye! Maybe I could fake an illness or something, but then what kind of friend would I be- deserting Kurt in his hour of need?

"Blaine and I have the best costumes!" Kurt made little claps excitedly, "Siegfried and Roy! We're going to wear these amazing pastel suits we got at the thrift store. I've spent hours adding these fabulous details- gold braid and whatnot, and we're going to spatter fake blood on Blaine's costume as a nod to Roy's unfortunate tiger attack. _(Eww!)_ It's going to be fantastic! Have you thought about your costume? I might have some ideas"

"I was thinking one of my black dance leotards, some whiskers, and some heels for like a bad kitty thing."

"Oh, Rach, we can do _so_ much better than that. The cat suit thing is done to death," Kurt replied, and I could practically see the smoke coming from his ears as the wheels in his brain started spinning._ I was in deep shit trouble!_

"And who are you inviting as your escort, Ms Berry?" Kurt asked playfully, "Maybe we could go with a couples theme for the costumes."

"No freaking idea, but it has to be somebody decent, since your step-brother- tall, dark, and dopey will be there with his football friends. Please, tell me he hasn't invited Karofsky!"

Kurt gave a dainty scoff, "Finn's not stupid, and be nice, Rachel! Speaking of football friends, how about Puck? He's probably coming anyway. You guys have seemed chummy lately. I saw him walking with you after 4th block. True, he's a little rough around the edges, and you should generally avoid any dark corners with him, but that's part of his appeal, I think."

I shook my head, "Puck and I are just friends, Kurt, besides, I get the impression, your brother is not one of Puck's biggest fans lately."

"That's strange," Kurt frowned, "Finn never said anything to me. They've always been the best of friends."

I chewed on that for a second- why _should_ I give a rat's ass what Finn "A different damn girl every day" Hudson thought of my party date? None of his damn business, anyway. Puck would be an amusing companion, and I wouldn't have to worry too much about getting groped, since Puck and I had reached our understanding after he kissed me in my car. Best of all, needling Finn was one of my favorite things to do these days. I figured that Puck and I coming to the party together would probably annoy the hell out of Finn. _What can I say? I'm an evil bitch._

"You know, I think I _will_ ask Puck if he'd like to go. Ironically, he would be one of my safer options," I said with a small smile, thinking it was the first time I had actually looked forward to the party.

"That's the spirit. I'll take care of your costumes. I'm sure I can come up with something fabulous."

A fissure of fear ran down my spine at those words, but I struggled valiantly to ignore it. Kurt had almost unerring fashion sense, kilts aside. Anyway, Puck might not even be able to make it.

In 4th block two days later: "It just so happens my big H-day plans fell through, Berry, so that would be great. I'll even bring some refreshments to make things more exciting," Puck responded with way more enthusiasm than I had expected when I asked if he wanted to attend the Double H Halloween party with me strictly on an as-friends basis.

"Great!" I tried not to sound too surprised, "Kurt generously offered to take care of our costumes."

Puck looked rather alarmed at this prospect, so I hurried to reassure him, "Don't worry, I'll check yours out beforehand and make sure it isn't too whack or controversial or anything."

"Okay, I guess," Puck still looked worried, "But I ain't wearing a skirt! And nothing pink."

"Oh, would you _evolve_ already?" I smacked his arm, "Kurt happens to have great taste."

_Mental note to self: Make sure Kurt selects heterosexually-friendly costumes. No kilts!_

* * *

The evening of the Hudson-Hummel Halloween party, I was standing in my bedroom in my costume fervently wishing I had applied Puck's rules to** _my_ _own _**costume. How to describe it? Well, Kurt _had_ used my own clothes to create it, that much could be said. He'd taken one of my old pleated skirts and hemmed it to within an inch of it's fucking life- to say it ended at my upper thighs would be generous. He'd combined the teeny tiny skirt with a red bustier that I'd gotten on sale at Victoria's Secret after Valentine's Day last year, but had never had the guts to wear, over which Kurt put my white cashmere cardigan that my Dad had accidentally shrunk to a third of its original size by washing and drying it. The ensemble was completed by dark knee socks and some heeled loafers.

I looked like a slutty school girl that had stepped out of some cheesy porn movie. How could I have been stupid enough to allow Kurt to raid my closet while I was at dance practice last week? _Never leave your gay best friend alone with your wardrobe!_ I should have been suspicious when I asked Kurt if he needed help with my costume, and he replied primly that he'd drop it at my house the day of the party after he finished the necessary modifications. He had managed to drop it off the one time all day that I was out getting Snickers bars for the expected trick-or-treaters. _Sneaky rat-bastard_.

"Kurt, I really wasn't going for the 'who's-gonna-be-my-daddy' porn star look," I glared at my phone, which I had on speaker and then back at my reflection in my cheval mirror, plucking at the skirt hopelessly, "If I even bend over in this, you'll be able to see my fucking ovaries."

"Ra-chel," Kurt stretched out my name in mock irritation, "You've got dancer's legs, and, you know what they say- if you've got it, flaunt it. Oh, and since you refuse to wear the blonde wig, you should at least braid your hair into two braids, like in the video. It will be fab and way hot! I'm never wrong about these things! Besides, if Puck is going as Kevin Federline with the wife-beater undershirt and fedora, this is the closest thing you've got to a Britney Spears costume in your entire wardrobe."

Sighing heavily, I started twisting my hair into school girl braids. Maybe my dads wouldn't let me leave the house dressed like a lecherous 40-something businessman's underage date. Huh! They'd probably pat me on the back for being "comfortable with my body" or some such forward thinking parent mumbo-jumbo.

"So when do you need me to show up?- And I mean that literally, Kurt! My tits and ass are hanging out here."

"Rachel, don't be crude! Your Britney costume is no more revealing than Santana Lopez's zombie cheerleader outfit is alleged to be," Kurt trailed off at the last part of his sentence.

"What? Does that mean the pom pom wielding bim is coming? How do you know about her costume anyway?"

"Finn may have mentioned it," Kurt's voice was barely audible now, "We're fighting fire with fire here, Rachel."

"We're not _'fighting'_ anything with anything here, Kurt! Fuck a duck! I'm going to stay in and watch the _Adams Family_ marathon. This party has train wreck written _all_ over it.."

"Rachel Berry, if you don't get your partially exposed...ass over here this minute, Siegfried and Roy, not to mention K-Fed, will show up at your house and drag you kicking and screaming to this party," Kurt finished with a dramatic flourish.

"You make it sound like so much fun. How can I resist thwarting you?" I shot back stubbornly, leaning down to yell at my phone that was now lying on my bed. Ugh! If Kurt were here now, I'd ring his pastel zoot suit and gold braid wearing neck!

"Rachel," Kurt used his charming tone, "You are going to show up looking stunning, and every guy in the room is going to take notice..."

"Hang on, Kurt, my doorbell just rang," I opened my bedroom door to the hallway and distinctly heard Puck downstairs greeting my dads in his most respectful-to-his-elders voice. I knew exactly who had suggested Puck come pick me up!

"Kurt Hummel, you better get rid of all the sharp cutlery at your house, and hide behind Lurch, your step-brother, because I'm coming for you!" I spat angrily.

Kurt had the nerve to laugh, "I'm looking forward to it, Rachel, and don't forget your to-die for pumpkin sugar cookies."

His complimentary reference to the cookies I baked for him every Halloween was intended to soften me up, I knew, "Yeah, well, you don't get any of my cookies. I only give them to people who are my _**friends- not people who throw me under the bus and then yell at the driver to drive over me a few times!**_" I pushed the End button on my phone with so much force that the phone bounced off my bed into the floor.

* * *

It was a somewhat silent ride over to Kurt's with Puck. I spent my time tugging my nonexistent skirt down, wondering if I'd lost my damn mind going out dressed this way, and glaring at Puck, who had let out a low whistle as he and I had walked to his car earlier, "Berry, what are you doing to me here? I'm seriously rethinking the whole you're-like-my-cousin thing."

I stopped next to his car and stood glowering up at him, "Try anything, and I will show you how hard my bitch-slap can be in such a way that your future children will feel it, Puckerman."

"Why does that turn me on even more, Berry?" Puck grinned sweetly.

"Puck! I will knock that damn fedora off your head, I swear!"

"Chill, Berry! Don't get your panties in a twist," Puck leaned in to me a little, as he opened the car door for me _(shocker!)_, "You _are _wearing panties under that um... skirt, aren't you..."

I literally growled at him as I got in the car. I could tell he was joking, but I was not in the mood. _Not at all._ What made me maddest of all was _**not **_Kurt making me a costume that could make a stripper blush or even Puck's teasing innuendos. No, I had a serious case of the angry mean reds because I was _still wearing_ this skimpy damn outfit in hopes that Finn Hudson would look at me and realize what a colossal fucking mistake he'd made ever letting me get away.

So, when Puck parked down the street from the Hudson-Hummel house, and grabbed the cooler that was presumably full of beer, I straightened my shoulders and put my arm through his, holding my plate of pumpkin sugar cookies in my other hand. Thus prepared, I marched toward almost certain embarrassment and probable humiliation in the direction of the low sound of music coming from the basement door of Kurt's house, pondering the fact that Puck did indeed have nice biceps as I went.

When Puck pushed his bare shoulder against the door, ushering me into the party along with the beer cooler, I realized several things at once:

1- At close range, a group of more than eight football players in random devil or demon costumes is kind of scary, especially when they seem to be looking right through the few clothes you _**do**_ have on.

2- Puck wasn't the only guest who had brought beer judging from some of the drunken greetings of "More beer!" and "Stripper!" _(I was seriously going to f-ing __**kill**__ Kurt, wherever the hell he_ was!)

3- A stripper costume was worse than a bunny costume any damn day of the year when in a room full of adolescent men.

4- And last, though certainly not least, Finn Hudson was definitely _looking_ at me through the crowd of costumed partiers. I just wasn't certain what that look meant yet.

* * *

_Well, sorry to end here, but I felt the party deserved a chapter of its very own. Reviews will get the party started, so to speak!_


	9. Pink Champagne and a Rachel Sandwich

_Warning: Blistering language, sexual innuendo, underage drinking (tsk-tsk) and other shenanigans._

_**Part ****8 ****Summary:** Finn sends Rachel a cryptic note begging her to talk to him about something that didn't mean anything, though she's not sure what. Still angry that he kissed Santana, she blows him off by making confetti of his note. A joint Kurt/Finn Halloween party is in the works involving football players, Cheerios, and Siegfried and Roy. Kurt designs Rachel's costume- a slutty school girl Britney Spears a la Season 2's Britney/Brittany episode (but **way** sluttier). Rachel takes Puck dressed as K-Fed as her date to the Hudson/Hummel party._

* * *

**Baby's Got the Bends**

**Part 9- Pink Champagne and a Rachel Sandwich**

"_Guards __insecurities __by __deflecting __with __acerbic __humor __and __repulsive __attitude.__"_ Dr. Dipstick wasn't pulling his punches after I called him a vermin on the buttocks of humanity last session. I'm so proud I finally got to the sorry SOB of a shrink. He thought he could insult me, Rachel Berry, with 12th grade vocab. Pfpt! Please, I was born with the gift for looking up unfamiliar words on Google. He was basically saying I was a sarcastic, abrasive bitch because I didn't want to get hurt. I could agree with that on the whole. It seemed to have worked for the first 16 years anyway, so why fix something that wasn't broken?

_Wait __a __minute..._ _**Broken.**_ Well, in my inner heart of hearts, I _was_ pretty hurt and pissed at Finn "Get a Fucking Clue" Hudson for dissing me and allowing little Finn to lead him to Santana Lopez, wannabe lesbian and Cheerio slut. - The same skank, who currently had her arm around Finn's back and was laughing up at him just oh-so fucking merrily, as I walked further into the 7th level of hell that was the Hudson-Hummel Halloween party on the arm of Puck slash K-Fed. It was certainly loud in hell, and the devil seemed to favor the odd mix of Kanye and Katy Perry in musical selections. I leaned up to practically shout in Puck's ear, "Hey, I need two favors, if you were ever my friend."

Puck snapped to attention, which was really strange since he had been practically mid-fist bump with a fellow footballer who was dressed like an unfortunate reject from Michael Jackson's Thriller video.

"Sure, Berry," he actually looked serious, "What is it?"

I managed a small smile as I replied tightly, "Stay close, okay? This outfit was monumentally crazy and apparently pointless, and perhaps a little dangerous," I glanced around at the three or four football ghouls still eying me with interest, "And I need a damn drink. You got anything other than beer in there?" I gestured to the cooler he'd set down by the door when we walked in.

Puck nodded sagely, "What did I say Berry? I got your back. You like pink, right? How 'bout a little bubbly? I got some pink champagne, thinking it would be a hit with the ladies," his eyes moved over me meaningfully, "You certainly qualify as that tonight."

"Pink champagne would be lovely, Puck," I said trying to keep the desperation out of my voice, as I glanced down at my Britney Spears/stripper costume to make sure the girls were still sort of covered by my bustier, and my skirt wasn't rising over my crotch again.

I generally didn't approve of underage drinking, since getting busted would be a giant buzz kill, but just a little tipple to numb the fear and the pain couldn't hurt, right? I glanced sideways in Finn's direction, using the corners of my eyes. _What __**was **__he wearing for fuck's sakes? _ He looked like Herman Munster in serious need of a stylist. His skin actually looked kind of... green, while his hair was styled in an oily flattop. Eesh. Who was I to judge, though? People with their va jay jays _almost_ visible to anyone who cared to look, should definitely _not_ cast stones.

Puck distracted me from my musings when he popped the lid of the the cooler and produced a bottle of Chandon Rose from California. Cheap, but a decent sparkling wine, according to my dads, who should know, as they practically bathed in the stuff at our last New Year's Eve party. I would have given Puck a kiss with tongue at this point. It was _such_ a good thing he didn't know that!

"Well, pop that bad boy, Puckerman," I declared with bravado I didn't feel while trying to ignore the Finn section of the room.

"At your service, my lady," Puck took my hand with a playful glint in his eye and kissed it.

I wagged my finger at him, "I'm not drunk yet, Puckerman."

"Let's see what we can do about that," and he popped the cork on the bottle and grabbed a plastic cup in one fluid motion to hand me a glass-full. He even grabbed a long neck for himself. _Impressive. __Guess __I'd __have __to __make __up __with __Kurt, __so __he __could __give __me __a __ride __home._

I held up my glass to Puck and said, "To good friends. I mean that, you know." _Okay, __Hallmark __moment __over. _ I took a long swallow. The fizzy bitter-sweetness hit the back of my throat, and I actually giggled.

"Is someone consuming pink champagne without me?" I heard my_ (perhaps)_ former best friend's voice behind me and spun on my heels, almost sloshing my drink, "Well, at least now there is something to drink, that's worth the trouble I'm going to get into when Dad and Carole get home."

"You...you fashion designer from hell!" I squinted at Kurt slash Siegfried- damn, I couldn't stay mad at a guy resplendent in a light beige suit with so much gold beading on the jacket that it was blinding, "You have a lot to answer for. Puck, no champagne for Siegfried here, but give Roy a splash, if you would."

Blaine beamed at me, looking gruesomely dapper in his cream suit covered with gold braid and spots of fake blood, as Puck poured him a glass-full.

Kurt/Siegfried looked so contrite, "Mein liebling, is there nothing I can do to atone for my transgressions to win your favor and a few pumpkin sugar cookies?"

I had to laugh, and I'd barely had half a glass of champagne, "Well..." I pretended to ponder the question carefully, "Perhaps a duet later?" I gestured to the absolutely deserted karaoke machine in the corner, "Of my choosing, of course."

"Name it, Ms Berry." Kurt said with no small amount of apology in his voice.

"You really will do anything for these, won't you?" I smiled as I handed him the platter of cookies I'd been holding.

Kurt returned my smile and glanced to the back of the room where the tall, greenish person I was ignoring _might_ be, "I'll have to hide them, as it is. I'm not the only one who lusts after your cookies, Ms. B."

Uncomfortable with Kurt's reference, I turned to Puck and laughed a little too merrily, "Puck, here, I'm sure would like one, and as my champion for the night, he has earned one."

"Must I share?" Kurt pouted.

"Ha- you must," I eyed him sternly, "You might have gotten the whole plate, if you'd left a couple more inches of skirt." I gestured at my bare thighs.

"Honestly, Rachel," Kurt said with disgust, "Did you look at yourself in the mirror? You are every heterosexual teenage boy's fantasy, and it's all thanks to me. I am a genius, if I do say so myself."

Puck was vigorously nodding, and Blaine was smiling at Kurt proudly.

I drew myself up to my full 5 feet 2 inches and looked Kurt in the eyes, "If I'd wanted to be every teenage boy's fantasy, I'd have come in the fucking all-together, Kurt. This," I held up one of my braids as an example, "Is a bit demeaning, really. It feeds into the stereotypes men have of women. I'm kind of ashamed I went along so easily." I glanced up and realized that Finn was studying me intently, and standing a bit closer than I thought he was. When you ignore a person, they tend to be able to sneak up on you easily._ Damn!_ Santana Lopez was still hovering in Finn's orbit smirking snarkily at me.

"Berry," Santana raised her voice to be heard over the din of the party, "That's a good look for you. You actually don't look like you mugged a 6-year-old for your clothes."

"Eh, thanks, and your costume is so _you_...so...," I replied, pretending to admire her torn Cheerio costume from her shredded skirt revealing flashes of tan upper thigh to her top with a strategic slit cut across the bodice, showing a shocking amount of skin _(This coming from a girl dressed like a stripper!)_, ".._**.Used**_."

Suddenly, Santana was in my face- very close to me, so close I could smell her spicy perfume, and the alcohol on her breath, "Berry, don't even think you can out bitch me."

"And why..." leaning toward her, tilting my chin so my lips were near her ear as I spoke, while my eyes never left Finn's, who stood nearby, silently watching our exchange with interest, his mouth hanging open a little, of course. "Would I even bother to try?" I barely recognized the husky laugh that erupted from my own throat, as I turned my back on the charming couple.

"Puck?" I trilled cheerfully, and Puck stepped forward, gazing at me from beneath his eyelashes with an charmingly evil grin, "I feel like dancing, but first, a little more of the good stuff, my dear."

I silently thanked my fortunate choice in escorts for the night. Puck was playing his part like an f-ing virtuoso, "Your wish is my command, Ms Berry." He held out his arm for me. Placing my arm in his, I strutted off without looking back, no matter that I wanted to _**so**_ fucking badly.

Another glass of champagne in hand, I headed with Puck through the crowd to a small group of dancers at a far corner of the room. I placed my forearms loosely on Puck's shoulders, "No waltz tonight, I suppose," I commented, as we started to move to the grinding hip hop.

"Time to get your freak on, Berry," Puck replied, as he spun me and my champagne so my back was to his front and followed that move with a couple of grinding hops in my direction.

I looked over my shoulder at him, "Hey, there K-Fed, don't make me go all Britney on your ass," I grinned to take the sting out of my words.

"I think the situation is reversed at the moment, babe" Puck teased looking down at my barely covered butt. I could feel his fucking belt buckle digging into my backside, among other things. I must have seemed worried because he leaned down to my ear and murmured, "Relax, we're after torturing Hudson tonight aren't we?"

I had the grace to blush and look a little guilty, as Puck moved still closer to mutter softly, "I'd say** _that_ **mission is accomplished, and about to go nuclear in 3...2... 1."

When I turned my head back around to face front, I noticed that I was now a Rachel sandwich with Finn Hudson standing in front of me, as Puck straightened, but still stood tensely close behind me. It would have been all kinds of hot if I hadn't been suddenly afraid that I'd be flattened between them, when I took in the murderous glare in Finn's eyes.

_Hmmm... to throw my champagne in Finn's face or not? Nah, waste of good booze_, so I downed the little that was left and turned to Puck, "Puck, dear friend, could you get me a little bit more?"

Puck took my glass and tipped his fedora at me saying, "I salute a true master."

_Wonder what Puck meant by that- true master of tormenting jerk-offs guilty of fucking with a girl's emotions? Hopefully!_ I watched his retreating back for a couple of seconds, composing myself, before my eyes flicked up to meet Finn's stare currently burning a hole through me, "Well, Finnster, this is a surprise. What can I do for you?"

"We need to talk," he gritted down at me.

I raised my eyebrows in question. He gestured to the door that led out of the basement into the back yard. _Might as well get this over with_. I felt Finn looming behind me like a giant green faced bat as I slowly wove my way through the crowd to the door. When we passed Puck's cooler, I noticed there was no sign of Puck getting my champagne._ Guess, he'd lifted his skirts and run for the hills. Oh, well._

The air outside was chilly after the overheated basement. Finn shut the door behind us, muting the Maroon 5 song currently blaring, while I took a few steps along the path leading beside the house and turned to face Finn, crossing my arms over my chest for warmth and maybe a little defensively. Surprisingly, no one else was outside partaking of the evening air, which seemed to be fizzing around me. Must have been the champagne. _Why lie to myself? _ It was the close proximity of Finn Hudson.

Finn shifted agitatedly from foot to foot and put his hands on his hips. His angry voice cut sharply through the relative quiet of the darkness around us, as he growled, "What the fuck, Rachel?"

I gave him an innocent look, "What the fuck what, Finn?"

"I told you to stay away from Puckerman," his tight lipped response, "Are you deliberately trying to hurt me now or what?"

I went from completely still and in control to a 100 miles an hour screaming rage in less than 3 seconds._ I should be a damned Porsche!_

"And _**I**_ said you had no right to dictate who I hang out with," I spat back, "You lost the right when you stuck your tongue in Santana Lopez!"

"I told you it was a mistake, and I didn't stick _anything_ in Santana. If you'd let me explain, like I asked in my note..." Finn began angrily.

"Oh, you mean the illegible scribblings of the mysterious F I found shoved in my locker?"

"Yes! I figured you wouldn't answer if I called or texted after what happened in the cafeteria, so I thought a note would be kind of..." he looked around as if trying to find the right words in midair, then shrugged, "...Old-school romantic or something."

"Oh, yes, _so_ romantic writing to me about you latest hook-up," I shot back sarcastically.

"Wait! That's not how I meant it. That day in the cafeteria, what I said about making out with Santana... it came out all wrong because I was so pissed about you and Puck and..." Finn paused, took a deep breath and let it out, "We were going over the cell division stuff, and then Santana just sort of jumped me, okay? She's like mutant strong for a girl, and I didn't want to hurt her trying to get her off of me. Besides, I think she's just trying to make Brittany jealous, not you- the other Cheerio Brittany who's here tonight."

"Oh, and tonight you looked like you were really struggling so hard to get away from Santana! I'll say it again- Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No, in fact you're one of the smartest people I know," he shrugged looking sheepish, "You're always using big words and stuff."

Trying to ignore the rather sweet compliment, I said sarcastically, "So, I'm to believe that a 6'4" hulking football player was overpowered and kissed against his will by a cheerleader almost a foot shorter? Puh-lease." It was truly a shame my arms were already crossed in front of me, because that would have been the perfect gesture of disdain just then. I settled for looking up at him in withering disbelief.

"Santana can be pretty scary sometimes. How can I make you believe me? I've only **_ever_** wanted …" he stopped and looked at me really hard, "All I've ever wanted since that day you kissed me in the damn parking lot, is this..."

For a big guy he could move really freaking fast, I tell ya, because before I knew it, he swooped down and captured my lips with his, both his hands behind my neck tilting my head up to deepen the kiss. Talk about going nuclear! The evil man just slid his tongue right in there. I think the nerve endings in my lips had a direct connection to their um... cousins in the vicinity of my vagina. Ooga!

What few brain cells I had that weren't twirling in happy little sex circles, were pondering what Finn had just said. _Could it be true? Did he really want me? Was the thing with Santana a big misunderstanding? He even implied he was jealous of Puck. Huh._

I drew back a little, and he looked down at me through lowered eyelids, his fingers were still at my nape, while his thumbs rubbed tingly patterns on the sensitive skin at either side of my neck. How could I _think_ when he did that? Mmmm... I arched my neck a little in pleasure before I mentally back-handed myself.

"Uh, Finn, I know I talk all tough, but I'm really not... that is... are you fucking with me?"

He smiled his sexy half smile _(even with his green face paint it was __**still**__ sexy!)_, and looked down my body, "In that outfit, I only wish I were, Rach." He moved so he was _almost_ pressed against me, and I actually felt his erection without him even touching me. _Why was it like this with him? _ _My thighs were on fire._

I looked up into those glinty eyes with a hard stare of my own, "I'm serious, Finn. I don't think I could go through all that shit again. It might... break me or something. With you I'm like...glass."

"Are you saying you feel breakable with me, Rach?" When I nodded slightly in his hands that still held me, he continued, "Because I feel exactly the same way. Like when you're with Puck, and he touches you...God! Are you …_** with **_him, Rachel? It's driving me crazy! I wanted to punch him so fucking badly just now when he was grinding up against you. Way more than I did when I found out that he and Quinn had..." He stopped speaking abruptly, his mouth opening and closing like my pet goldfish Glenda's.

I. WAS. SO. FUCKING. **STUPID!** All the signs had been there. I had just been too wrapped up in my own shit to put the pieces together. _Puck_ was the father of Quinn's baby. Holy shit and pass the damn aspirin, because I had a splitting headache from wrapping my mind around this one!

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_Well, Rachel finally figured it out! Took her long enough. Wonder how she will react? How will she answer Finn's questions? Review if you care (and even if you don't- please!)._


	10. What Are Best Friends For? Not That!

_Warning: Profanity, sexual situations and rotten eggs ahead._

**_Heartfelt and grateful thanks to everyone reading! This chapter was less than cooperative in being written- so hope it was worth the wait!_**

_**Part 9 Summary:** The Hudson-Hummel Halloween party is in full swing. Finn almost loses his temper when he watches Puck dance provocatively with Rachel, who is in costume as a slutty school girl Brittney Spears. Finn confronts Rachel outside the party and reveals that he is not romantically interested in Santana, and that he is intensely jealous of Puck's attentions to Rachel, letting slip that Puck hooked up with Quinn. Rachel finally realizes that Puck is the father of Quinn's baby._

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**Part 10- What Are Best Friends For? Not That!**

"_Self-worth not what it should be."_ Arghh...So- I wasn't a self-righteous puffed-up prick screwing around on his wife with a stripper while hawking ridiculous psychobabble to innocent teenagers. Dr. Strange really needed a serious ego-shrinking experience for writing that nugget of shit on his little pad during my appointment. I tried my best each week to puncture his gigantic ego, but I was only one person for fuck sakes. His problems went _way_ beyond what I could handle with my bi-weekly sessions of insults and snide remarks. The man needed serious help, I tell you!

Besides, I felt my self-worth was on the upswing, anyway. In the last half hour since I had arrived at the Hudson/Hummel Halloween Party I had been mistaken for a stripper _(I was choosing to view being mistaken for a skanky, hot chick in a complimentary way, thank you!)_, and, more importantly, I had actually figured out a key plot point in the Shakespearean drama _(or was it a farce?)_ that was my love life.

In an interesting side note: Puck shared his name with a character in one of Shakespeare's plays, who famously said, "Cupid is a knavish lad, thus to make poor females mad." _No fucking kidding._ Cupid, the baby-faced bastard, and Noah "Puck" Puckerman, a.k.a. – the horny bastard, both had the honor of being on my shit list for really pissing me off and generally driving me crazy. I'm sure my shrink would heartily agree that I was a very angry, crazy bitch, who needed to get a clue about love, but I digress...

_Standing in semi-darkness with Finn outside the Hudson/Hummel Halloween Party:_

I sighed heavily and closed my eyes, as what Finn said, or almost said, sank in. So, Quinn had cheated on Finn with Puck and had made the rather colossal mistake of getting knocked up in the process. How in the _hell_ had I not figured this out sooner? That was why Finn had acted so strangely on the day everything went all screwy when he left with Santana to work on their meiosis project. I cringed a little thinking about how I must have appeared to Finn while talking to Puck in the computer lab that day. Finn had probably been jealous when he _thought_ he saw me flirting with Puck then and later in the cafeteria. To top it off- a few days later, Finn witnessed Puck kiss me in my car. Following twisted fucked-up logic of the teenaged male mind, he must have thought I was just like his two-timing bitch of an ex-girlfriend. I ought to be insulted, but somehow, I wasn't. I probably would have thought the same thing, if I'd been him. Having a penis probably didn't help his thought process very much in this. Still, he should have just _asked_ me about it...

I opened my eyes and looked up at Finn, putting my hands on his green face, glowing dimly in the dark night, "Finn- Puck and I are just friends. I mean, you saw, he _did_ kiss me in my car that day in the rain, but I threatened to bitch-slap him if he ever did it again. Tonight, I was being kind of bitch because I was pissed at you and okay...a little... jealous and hurt." _Ugh. What was this drivel I was spouting now? What I said was true, but why the hell did I say it out loud?_

"You were? Really?" His tippy smile got a little bigger, "You have _no_ reason to be jealous of Santana, I swear. I mean, yeah, she's hot and all, but she's like a bad case of jock itch or something," he rolled his eyes, "Hard to get rid of and makes you want to grab your junk and pray for relief. _(Yuck!)_ Although, if Brittany shows the least bit of interest tonight, I have a feeling Santana'd forget all about me, so that 'hard to get rid of part' probably isn't true. Not that I don't want to get rid of her, even though I have nothing against her personally...but I don't think of her in that way. Not like you."

I noticed he had an endearing tendency to say random crap when he was nervous. I also realized standing there studying his downcast face in the dim light, that he actually seemed nervous- like full-on like he was going to retch _nervous_. Should I like back up just in case? Really though, it was just so... sweet. I pretty much forgave him then and there for everything, but I figured I needed to make him work a little bit more before I clued him into that.

"So, what is your costume anyway? I mean you're green, and your hair is... different," I reached up and lightly ruffled his greasy hair styled in a flattop, "Uh, Finn, you didn't actually use grease from the tire shop on your hair, did you?"

"No," he scoffed rather defensively, "Kurt said that would probably make it all fall out. It's some hair product he had that reeks of some kind of fruit or something. I'm supposed to be Frankenstein like in the movies. I figured I had the height thing going for me, so..." He shrugged and smiled down at me.

"Ah," I replied, hiding my amusement and relief rather badly, "Frankenstein Finn, nice alliteration."

"Yeah," Finn said thoughtfully, "I guess he couldn't read being made from a dead guy's brain and random body parts."

Should I try to clear that mess up or not? I shrugged mentally, "And Frankenstein and Finn both start with F, like how you signed your note. I like it." My voice trailed off at the last phrase, and I took a step closer to him. I could smell the Finn-smell I loved, even through Kurt's crazy mango papaya scented hair product.

"Your costume is way better than mine," his glance flickered down to my breasts pushed up by the bustier, "But I have to say, I'm glad you don't dress like this everyday. It's kind of...," he reached for the braid hanging next to my cheek and gave it a gentle tug, pulling me toward him, "... distracting, and I have a feeling, I'd be getting in fights a lot."

"Fights?" I just couldn't think clearly with him so close and gazing so intensely at me in the semi-darkness.

"Rachel..." he whispered my name, his breath warm against my lips in the cool, dark air, "I want..."

**I**_ want to rip your clothes off and have my way with you, **that** is what __**I **__want!_ This errant thought flitted through my mind as I murmured the question, "You want?"

"I want..." he swallowed thickly, "So much. I don't know where to start. I'd scare you if I said what I'm thinking." He moved to stand even closer to me, his sinewy hands moving down my neck under the edges of my tiny sweater. His fingers clenching slightly over the bare skin at my shoulders as he leaned in to rest his lips near my ear, "I want to _take_ you against this wall so much that it scares me. I know we can't, but I want to _so _much." His lips brushed lightly over my ear lobe then down my neck. I shivered.

My back was against the slightly abrasive surface of the brick wall of his house, which was a good thing, since I was slowly melting into a blob of sexed-up goo, who apparently couldn't stand on her own anymore. All the weeks of avoiding each other, of denying the heat between us had taken their toll on us both.

Somehow, I raised myself on my toes, my hands moving on his chest, my fingers scraping upward to the collar of his shirt where I could brush the bare skin at his throat, feeling his pulse thrumming madly under my fingertips. I turned my head, so my lips were against his as I spoke softly, "This is crazy, but I want that, too, but we shouldn't. Finn...I've never felt this... what is this? It's like I have to have you."

My lips brushed his hungrily, nipping, at the corner of his mouth. He moaned softly, his long arm moving behind my hips to lift me and cushion me between his warmth and the rough wall. I felt him grind into me, his hardness against my belly.

Suddenly, Finn froze. _Oh, fuck, not again._ The tire shop had been bad enough for him... but then something smelled well... _really_ bad, like rotten actually. Finn suddenly spun around, and I automatically put out my hands to brace myself against his back, and my fingers were instantly covered in the smelly slime oozing down the back of his shirt. It smelled really rank. Rotten eggs. Gross! Then I heard evil laughter somewhere out in the darkness of the yard. I felt the impact through Finn as more eggs hit his chest. Then a rancid missile ricocheted off his shoulder and rolled to strike the side of my head and slide sickeningly down my cheek. Ugh. My stomach churned at the stench.

He winced and exclaimed, "Fuck! Rachel, stay behind me. I'm going to try to get to the basement door. Just stay behind me, okay?" _If the guy was willing to take a bullet, or in this case rotten eggs, for me, who was I to burst his chivalrous, albeit sexist, bubble? _

As another rotten egg landed on the brick wall next to me splattering me with more vileness, I spluttered, "Finn, what the hell?"

"Karofsky, maybe," Finn muttered, as we did an awkward two-person sidestep towards the the basement door while rotten eggs landed on and around us. Once we were next to the door, I reached back to grab the handle, and wrenched it open, loud music from inside suddenly blaring jaringly. Finn shoved me through the door and ordered, "Go Rachel! Find Kurt."

Every muscle in Finn's body tensed just before he took off at a run into the darkness of the yard. The idiot was going after our unknown attackers! _Was he insane?_ He was bound to be outnumbered.

I turned to the party, which was in full swing, and luckily, most people were too drunk or too busy partying to notice a now egg covered stripper/Brittney. Puck was standing by the door near his cooler smiling flirtatiously at a Cheerio I didn't know, offering her a beer and his trademark suggestive smirk. _Still couldn't believe Finn thought I'd be taken in by that, and Quinn's baby-daddy no less._

"Puck!" He turned to look at me and wrinkled his nose when he caught a whiff of the stench wafting off of me. "Finn's out there alone chasing down somebody, Karofsky maybe, who just chucked a bunch of rotten eggs at us! We have to go help!"

Puck bellowed the names of several football players, and they clustered in a group by the door within seconds. "Some sons of bitches just egged Finn and Berry out there. Which way did Finn go, Berry?"

"I think to the right there by the shed," I pointed toward the area near the outline of a garden shed where I had last seen Finn's tall shadow.

I started out the doorway after the football players now running pellmell into the darkness, but Puck grabbed my arm to restrain me, "Hold on there, killer. If it is Karofsky, sure as shit he ain't by his lonesome. Stay here. Finn would have my ass if you somehow got hurt in this."

As Puck took off, I stamped my foot like a petulant three year old, but I didn't care. "I can take care of myself, dammit," I shouted into the darkness to no one in particular.

I stood for a few moments just inside the doorway, looking into the now sinister blackness outside, debating what to do next. It was almost eerily quiet, except for the occasional rustle of footsteps over dry grass and leaves or a quiet call of one of the football players to another.

I started when Kurt came to stand next to me, keeping a respectful distance from my reek, "Rachel, let's go get you cleaned up. Puck and the other guys can take care of this. You'll do no one any good stumbling around out there in the dark."

Well, fuckity fuck! I hated it when he was right. Just about every atom in me wanted to storm out there to find Finn to make sure he was okay and then find Karofsky and plant my foot in his groin.

"I'll wait until Finn gets back. I can stand the smell a little bit longer," I straightened my shoulders and walked to stand outside the door to avoid the curious gazes I was getting from the other party goers at this point. No sense in making anyone else suffer my rotten egg eau de parfum, after all. I had gotten sort of used to the stink by now, and not breathing through my nose helped.

"Not sure the rest of us can," Kurt murmured.

"I heard that," I retorted, leaning tiredly against the brick wall, "You don't have to stand with me, Kurt. Go back in to Blaine. I'll be okay."

"Now what kind of friend would I be if I deserted you out here?" Kurt's eyes trailed over me and tsked in dismay, "My masterpiece- ruined. Those animals. I hope Finn and Puck catch them and beat them to a pulp."

I cast Kurt a sardonic look. Call Kurt all kinds of derogatory names relating to his sexual orientation- he just shrugged it off, but screw up one of his creations, and he was out for blood. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I wasn't planning on wearing the costume again, anyway. Definitely _not_ a stay below the radar outfit, although Finn had seemed to like it before we were so rudely interrupted. As the thought of our third make-out session crossed my mind, I shifted uncomfortably and wondered what possessed me to keep climbing that same damned tree, other than the incredible view when I got up there. It's like when you go to your stylist on particularly bad hair day and tell him you want something different, and you trust him completely, and you walk out of the salon with something even Kelly Osborne wouldn't try. _Never ends well._

I saw a mohawked silhouette supporting a tall shadow limping back toward the house, and my heart leapt up my throat in spite of my recent thoughts, "Finn? Oh, shit!" I ran the few feet toward him.

"I'm okay, Rach, just got the wind knocked out of me, is all." Finn said a little breathlessly.

"Yeah, Berry, he's had worse than this from me at football practice," Puck said with pride, "He'll be fine. Rick the Stick landed a sucker punch before Huddy and me tackled his ass."

I put my arm around Finn's waist at his other side, my hand sticking to his egg encrusted shirt.

"Are you okay? Did they get you very much?" He looked down at me with concern.

_He was worried about __**me**__? Really?_ By this time we were at the back door again, and the light from inside the basement illuminated his face now streaked with egg and dirt in addition to the green Frankenstein paint.

"Just a little splatter from what you didn't block," I replied with faux-carelessness, "Handy to have a big guy for a human shield." I tightened my arm around his waist in a one arm hug.

"It was Karofsky, Azimio and Rick- the same guys who gave you and Kurt trouble in the parking lot the other week. I guess they thought tonight would be a good time to try for revenge by egging the house. They got really lucky since you and I were out here," Finn looked angry as he explained, "They sort of got away, since old Mr. Riley, our back door neighbor, started screaming he was going to call the cops if we didn't get the hell out of his yard, so we all scattered. We did get a couple of good hits in beforehand, though."

He and Puck exchanged cocky grins with each other, and I could feel the bro love wafting off of them. _I will never understand men._ One minute at each others' throats sworn enemies, and the next, both Puck and Finn seemed to be suffering total fight boners and the best of friends. Whatever.

As we walked into the remnants of the party, Kurt cleared the way through the few gawking partiers that still remained saying, "Go get cleaned up you two. I'll be up in a few minutes. Blaine, Puck, and I will try to rinse the egg off the side of the house with the garden hose before it dries. It's much harder to remove once it's dry."

Finn and I trudged up the two flights of stairs in silence to the hall outside Finn and Kurt's bathroom. Okay, this was fucking awkward, standing reeking of rotten egg with a guy you were practically dry humping thirty minutes ago.

"Maybe you should just give me a ride home, and I can get cleaned up there," I said nervously.

"And rub congealed rotten egg all over the seats of my truck. No, I don't think so, Rachel," Finn responded curtly _(Never jeopardize the man's truck seats- got it!)_, "You can take a shower in our bathroom and wash your hair, and I'll find you something to throw on."

Standing in the hot spray of Kurt and Finn's shower 15 minutes later, I had to agree it had been a fantastic idea. I'd already washed the raw egg out of my hair with some of Kurt's $30 a bottle shampoo. Now where was the conditioner? I looked at the array of hair and bath products lined up like neat little soldiers in the metal rack hanging from a hook on the shower wall. I couldn't resist picking up a bottle of body wash and flipping open the cap. Yummy! Finn in a bottle. Well, almost. Nothing compared with the real thing, of course. I jumped as a knock on the door startled me out of my lustful imaginings of lathering Finn's bare chest and tummy with my soapy hands. Finn's muffled voice came through the bathroom door, "Rachel? Can you hear me? I have a t-shirt and stuff for you to change into..."

"I'm in the shower... you can just put them on the counter in here if you want," I called out before I thought better of it. I heard the door open. He couldn't see me through the shower curtain, but the thought of standing stark naked in the same room with Finn Hudson was doing funny things to several key parts of my body all at once. I leaned against the cold tile wall of the shower for a second, trying to pull myself together.

His voice sounded strained on the other side of the thin curtain dividing us, as he said, "Uh, Rachel...I've got one of my clean t-shirts and a pair of shorts, but they're going to be huge on you. Something of Kurt's would probably fit better, but I'm not allowed near his wardrobe, so I'm not sure where he keeps this sort of stuff. I should just go get him, he'd know better what would fit you..."

Again with the nervous babbling, so evidently, me being bare-assed naked was affecting him, too. I pulled the edge of the shower curtain so I could peek out without giving him a free show, no matter how much I might want to. "Hey, those will be fine. Thanks."

It looked like he'd already showered, his face was scrubbed clean and his hair was wet yet obviously back to it's natural style and lacking the smelly pomade. He stood there frozen in the center of the bathroom staring at me, his mouth ajar, his mobile eyebrows appeared ready to leap right off of his face, "Such a _bad_ idea coming in here, Rach..." He took a couple of faltering steps towards me.

"Bad idea in what way, Mr. Hudson?" I smiled in what I hoped was a sexy, yet non-slutty way, as I clutched the plastic curtain in my fist.

"I-I want you so bad..." Finn muttered with brutal honesty I wasn't expecting. He was standing within inches of me now- staring intently, hands clenched at his sides, the flimsy shower curtain all that separated us. _Could a girl have an orgasm from just a look? Maybe._

I didn't even pause to think, I just relaxed my fist, and the curtain dropped, revealing about half of my body. Finn's eyes widened, and his pupils dilated until they were almost black. Suddenly, his arms were wrapped around me, and his mouth was attacking mine underscoring the fierceness of his last statement and attesting his need. Oblivious to the water rushing over us, he leaned in and pressed himself to my wet nakedness, and I welcomed him- wrapping myself around him, my breasts pressing into his t-shirt covered chest, water soaking into the fabric. Those delightfully strong fingers of his trailed down my back, gliding slowly over my wet skin to the curve of my hips and around to cup the globes of my ass. His fingers squeezed as he pulled me toward him until we were pressed together, our height difference lessened by the fact that I stood elevated several inches in the shower.

"Finn...mmmm...oh... yes..." I mumbled incoherently against his lips, as he grabbed my leg to wrap it around his hip, bringing my happy place into contact with his, so they could be happy together with very little between them.

Did I mention, he had on relatively thin athletic shorts, which were by now kind of wet? Arching my back, I rubbed myself up against him, my core against his hardness. Hoo ha! _Yes, __**that**__ was throbbing in time, too. _Oh, yes! Right there. Yes! Yes! Yes!

"Rachel? Finn?" I heard Kurt's voice as if he were calling from far away, then suddenly much closer, "Oh, dear lord! Sorry!"

Why oh _why- _ for the love of all that is _finally_ getting closer to a mind-blowing orgasm? Vag-blocked by my own best friend. Why? Why? I ask you- **_WHY?_**

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_Will Finn and Rachel **ever** finish the deed? I certainly hope so! Please review like you mean it!_


	11. Hotter Than Hell

A_/N:__Thanks __for __your __patience __in __waiting __for __this __update! __So __glad __you're __still __reading! __I'm __loving __all __the __reviews, __favorites, __and __alerts! __Thank __you! By the way, I don't own Glee._

_**Part ****10 ****Summary:** Finn and Rachel get hot and heavy outside the Hudson/Hummel Halloween Party, only to be rudely interrupted by Karofsky and company chucking rotten eggs on/at them. Finn and others give chase and manage to do a little punching before a neighbor threatens to call the cops. Later, Finn brings some of his clothes into his bathroom for Rachel while she's showering, and it gets very steamy, involving a lot of wet kisses and pressing of flesh. Kurt walks in through the partially open door effectively dousing the passions of the two lovers before they can get too carried away._

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**Part 11- Hotter Than Hell**

"_Sexual __frustrations __masking __deeper __issues.__"_ Well, didn't I feel validated! For the moment I was choosing to ignore his creepy obsession with my sex life, but even Dr. Clueless-as-Fuck thought I needed to get laid or at least make it to 3rd base. Wait. What was third base again in guy sex speak? Hmmm... Yeah, third base would be just **great** by me. Thank you very much. Mmmm... Yes.

Alrighty then. Back from my mini sex fantasy involving Finn's _long_, dextrous fingers and my southern areas. Fantasy was pretty much all I got these days. Sadly, my nether regions were suddenly Siberia or Kalamazoo or somewhere similarly unvisited- especially by a certain Finn "Won't Touch That" Hudson. Yes, it must have been pretty fucking traumatic for him when his brother caught us virtually in flagrante dilecto the night of the Hudson-Hummel Halloween Party. Finn certainly learned a valuable lesson when Kurt walked in on us rubbing our nasty bits against each other in the shower: _Make sure you __**close**__ (and lock) the fucking-damn door!_ Really, if anyone should have been fussed, it was _me_. I was the one who had been _naked_ after all, _not_ Finn. Though, bless his horny heart, Finn had looked rather flummoxed at the time- mouth ajar _(no surprise there)_ in a gasp of horror , erection prominently on display through his wet athletic shorts _(such a tragic waste...)_, and eyes in the squint of shame, as he tersely spat out, "Kurt! Get out!"

Over the weeks that followed, I might have chalked his avoidance of my lady parts up to a selfish guy-thing, except he seemed equally averse to me enjoying myself with his equipment. My hands started to wander below his waist once or twice, and he suddenly got very ticklish. More than three full weeks out from the fated Halloween grind-fest, and well... _nada._ Granted, he'd been on house arrest for the first week after the party debacle. (_PS- Parents finding drunk people in their back yard equals severe parental anger and generally bad things.)_ So, I hadn't seen much of Finn that first week post-party. After that we started hanging out fairly regularly, and I got generous hand-holding, lovely kisses, delightful hugs, and once, even a breast grope, although, viewed in hindsight, that could have been accidental. We had been watching _Zombieland_ at Finn's house, and he had been reaching for the popcorn and _may_ have missed the bowl by a few inches during the startling part with Bill Murray. I still enjoyed being felt up regardless. Thank you, Bill Murray! You will be getting a vegan fruit cake for Hanukkah from this girl. _(My dads buy them by them case.)_

The question was: Did Finn think I'd suddenly grown teeth down there or something? Because I just didn't get it. He'd been somewhat attentive to (or at least blatantly aware of) that area before, but now my 80-year-old Aunt Frieda probably got more action than I did, and Uncle Harry was arthritic and 82. What-the-fuck-ever. It's not like I expected us to be making our own porn movies by this point in our relationship, but I wasn't even sure I'd even call "us" in a relationship. Friends who kissed in a non-platonic way- yes. Friends with benefits- _hell no!_ And I **so** wanted benefits of some kind, shape or form. It was like working in a Godiva chocolate store and being allergic to chocolate.

I'd started dreaming about Finn's ass, that's how bad it was. Yes, I had dreams about other parts of his anatomy, too. But when I sat upright in bed panting and in a cold sweat at 4 fucking am in the fucking morning after an intense dream involving Finn washing my bug bending over it wearing tight Under Armour briefs and _only_ tight Under Armour briefs, I knew something had to be done. Oh, my sweet female wet dreams! Orgasms just aren't as much fun if you aren't awake for them.

One of the worst parts of Finn being such a vag-tease was that I couldn't even talk it over with my best friend like I normally would have. Kurt had just recently started looking me in the eyes again after the whole seeing me starkers against his brother thing, so I couldn't bring myself to discuss my sex life, or lack there of, with said brother. That would just be painful and wrong for Kurt and me both. So- I suffered in silence, determined to give Finn the time and space _(groan)_ he needed to work out his personal issues that were making him such a damn gentleman all of a sudden. Eventually, I'd have to ask him about it, but really, it had only been three weeks. Three l-o-n-g weeks of seriously deep, drugging kisses, 3 weeks of hand-holding with thumb caresses across my palm that left me breathless, and the hugs, oh, great horny-toads! The hugs were... I just wanted to climb up there and wrap myself around his neck like a Rachel stole. _(Okay, I was sexually deprived AND a little disturbed.)_ In the mean-time I'd learned that there was longing and then there was l-o-n-g-i-n-g.

Matters weren't helped by a recent awkward and unfortunate run-in with Finn's ex in the girl's bathroom at McKinley. I had stopped in to make sure I didn't have anything in my teeth after lunch. Nothing worse than trying to flirt with one's pseudo-boyfriend with a big clump of spinach between one's front teeth. Just gross. So, I'd taken to carrying around a toothbrush and toothpaste, like someone with OCD. Funny, I ran into Ms Pillsbury a lot this way, though I didn't know she and Mr Schuester had made it official, or maybe she just had good oral hygiene.

Anyhow, having brushed my teeth in the seemingly empty bathroom, and assured myself that my breath was minty fresh, I turned to leave, when I heard a faint sniffle and a little sob in the farthest stall. Well, if someone wanted to have a good cry between 3rd and 4th block, who was I to judge? Best just to leave her to her misery. There'd been many a day, that I would have felt her pain, but aside from not getting any, I was in a pretty good place. Nothing worse than being caught at a low point by someone who was reasonably happy- just made it all the more gut-wrenchingly depressing, in my opinion. I moved to tiptoe quietly out undetected, so the mystery crier could have some solitude, when, to my jaw-dropping surprise, out walked Ms Quinn "Oops, forgot a little thing called contraception!" Fabray. Well, this sucked my Uncle Harry's antique billiard balls _(What? He collected billiard balls.)_ and was _way_ beyond awkward.

Besides, Quinn was one of those bitches who was a pretty crier. Her nose wasn't red, and her face wasn't the least bit splotchy, like mine was when I went on a crying jag. She looked like a blonde Ingrid fucking Bergman. Still beautiful with tears streaming down her face, but very sad, and actually she shot me a withering look even through her tears. I tamped down my irritation, and was turning to leave when she spoke sourly, "I suppose this just makes your day. The ex-girlfriend of the guy you're with- weeping pathetically in the ladies room."

I started to contradict her, but then I figured honesty was probably better, "You said it, not me. Well, maybe a little, especially since you've always been such a bitch to me. Somehow, it's not nearly as satisfying as you'd think it would be." Shrugging, I rifled through a pocket of my bag and pulled out a travel pack of tissues and held them out to her. She looked back at me like I was holding a poisonous snake out to her instead, "Here- take them, the school's tp is like sandpaper when you're trying to wipe your eyes or whatever."

Quinn looked puzzled, but took the tissues, "Thanks, but why are you being nice to me, if I'm such a bitch?"

_Hmm... why __**wasn't**__ I gloating?_ I should be laughing my ass off at her misery, but somehow it wasn't funny. "I couldn't tell you. I guess I just don't feel the need to be bitchy back at the moment."

She took a deep breath, and wiped her nose with a tissue, "Maybe it's because you have Finn and … Puck, if you want him..."

"Puck and I are just friends," I explained automatically, "And besides, I wouldn't stand in the way of the mother of his..." _When __**would**__ I learn to keep my mouth the fuck shut?_

"I guess _Finn _told you," Quinn stated bitterly, "It doesn't matter anyway, since half the school knows."

"He didn't mean to," I hurried to defend Finn, "Besides I haven't told anyone. Why would I?"

"To have your revenge, obviously," Quinn rolled her eyes at my apparent stupidity, "That's probably what I would have done."

"Well, that's a major difference between you and me- generally, I'm not a vindictive bitch." Pausing in my speech, I felt a twinge of guilt saying this after what I'd done to Finn's tire, but no one was perfect, right? "I may not be your dear friend, but outing you and Puck doesn't seem to be a good idea when my karma or whatever is pretty good right now," I turned to leave, _why was I bothering to explain myself to her anyway?_

"You must be right about your karma because he _really_ is great, you know," Quinn replied, making me stop and turn back to look at her as she continued, "Finn, I mean. I _still_ can't believe you two are together. He could have any girl in this school he wanted, this one included, and he's with _you_, a freaky nobody."

I shifted uncomfortably at what seemed like a not-so veiled threat and certainly an insult. What the hell should I say to that? I settled for, "I am aware of my good fortune, however, I think he's also kind of grateful that his current girlfriend is not a cheating, psychotic tramp, who got preggers screwing his best friend. Even before Finn and I were together, I knew better than to let Puckerman anywhere near my punani."

I turned and stalked out before she could say anything else. Gave the bitch my tissues, and this is the thanks I get- a serious inferiority complex, even though I'd poke my own eyes out before I'd admit it to her or anyone else.

Her venomous truth really stung - Finn probably could have his pick of most of the girls at this school, even the part-time lesbians, as he had already proven with Santana, so why _had_ he picked me? I had a decent body, although, I knew my limitations, being pocket-sized and having a big schnozzle among them. Then there was my personality. _Ah, crap. I was doomed!_ Maybe that's why Finn had been so standoffish since we hooked up at the Halloween party- _He was going to dump my ass!_ Although, truthfully, maybe he had never technically picked my ass up to begin with.

I had been using poetic license when I called myself Finn's girlfriend to Quinn. He had never actually used the term about, to, or with me at any time that I could recall. My dad was a lawyer for fuck's sake, and what did he always say? Get it in writing, or at least in text. The term "plausible deniability" also came to mind. Finn could deny being in a relationship with me if he never actually took it to the next level, as they say. I felt a painful conversation with Finn coming on, and I so did not want to be there for it. I guess I was well past the age where I could ask Kurt to ask Finn if he would be my boyfriend. More's the pity.

I didn't see Finn the rest of the day until after school. He had football practice, and I had plans with Kurt, so I wasn't really expecting to see him then. Suddenly, I felt a tingle down my spine as his tall presence loomed behind me when I was getting my stuff from my locker. I turned to look up at him, he gave me one of his crooked grins, "Hey, Rach. So you coming by the house after you and Kurt finish your pre-Thanksgiving shopping?"

"I hadn't really thought about it," I said coolly, Quinn's earlier words playing through my mind _(what the hell was I doing?)_, "I figured you'd be extra late this afternoon with the playoff game coming up Friday."

"Yeah," he sighed, "Coach is really riding our asses hard, but I was kinda hoping you and I could hang out for a bit. I should be home by 5:30 or so. Maybe you could stay for dinner, I think Mom's making spaghetti, and I'm sure she wouldn't mind throwing in a few more noodles. We could even try to get some homework done for a change. I have this English essay on some dude named Byron due that I could use your help with, if you have the time."

Finn stood there with a perfectly innocent look on his face, while I fought down a retort that would have included something scathing about wanting to be some other kind of buddy besides that of the study variety. Truly, I needed to talk to Finn about our relationship status sooner rather than later, so tonight might be a good opportunity, over one of the most famous Romantic poets of the English language. Great...

"Sure," I finally replied when Finn's look turned questioning, "Byron, huh? Interesting choice."

"I was late to English the day we chose topics, so he was pretty much all that was left besides somebody named Percy. I've already read part of the Wikipedia article on Byron, and turns out he was kind of a ladies man, who may have fooled around with his half-sister. That's just..." at this Finn gave a little shudder of revulsion, "Wrong."

Kurt walked up at that moment, "What's wrong? Aside from that shirt with those pants. I can see I need to go on another slash and burn campaign in your closet, Finn."

"Stay out of my closet, Kurt," Finn warned in an exasperated brotherly way.

"That's what they all say," Kurt quipped cheekily. I rolled my eyes. I suppose he couldn't resist.

Ignoring his brother's joke entirely, Finn continued, "Last time you organized it, my favorite hockey jersey went missing, though you claim it's still in there."

"It's probably drowning in the sea of plaid shirts. I swear, I literally had eye-strain for two days after sifting through all the plaid," Kurt retorted.

"Kurt," seeing that this could go on a while, I decided to intervene, "Are you ready? We have a lot of stores to hit."

"See you at home," Finn smiled cheerfully and walked off without a backward glance. I, however stared absently at his tall, retreating back far too long. No hug even? Was I slipping into the friend-zone or what?

"Rach, you can check out his assets later," Kurt said disgustedly, "You were in such a hurry a minute ago."

In my bug driving to the mall I just couldn't hold in my confusion and distress anymore, "Kurt, I swore I wasn't going to put you in the awkward position of talking about your step-brother and me, but I really need your help!"

"And here we go," Kurt murmured to himself, "I made a bet with Blaine that you wouldn't last a month without confiding in me. I win. Hooray! Free latte for me!"

"Honestly, Kurt, this is serious," I frowned over at him, "Do Finn and I seem like a couple to you? Like we're together? I'm so confused. I'm starting to think Finn thinks of me as a friend who happens to be a girl he can fool around with a little but nothing serious. I don't want to be **that** girl, Kurt. I **won't** be that girl."

"Rachel, Rachel," Kurt smiled in a rather condescending way, "The shower scene, which I'm still trying to scrub from my memory, would imply otherwise."

"That was _ages_ ago," I responded with impatience, "Since then I could almost be his sister... maybe Lord Byron's version of a sister, but he's been so... so... gentlemanly. I can't stand it! It's so damn frustrating. I had a dream about his ass the other night, Kurt! That's how bad it is."

"Well, have you _talked_ to him about itl?" Kurt asked, "I found with Finn sometimes, you have to really spell things out for him. Maybe he's gotten the impression you want to take things slow."

"There's slow and then there's glacial," I replied, "And what could I possibly fucking say that wouldn't come off as needy or slutty or pathetic? 'Please have sex with me or at least grope me,'" I said the last in a faux-whiny voice, "I really wouldn't mind waiting on the whole sex thing, if I knew what we, Finn and I, were. I mean am I his fucking girlfriend or what? Yes, he regularly sticks his tongue in my mouth, but what does it all mean?"

"Ugh. Rach, didn't need that last detail, darling," Kurt cringed a little, and then he got the light bulb being flicked on over his head look. He reached out dramatically and put his hand on my arm, "I think I know what this is."

"What?!" I felt a surge of excitement, "_Please_ tell me- because I have no clue, and it's not a good state for me."

Kurt slumped a little and looked over at me guiltily using the corners of his eyes, "It's sort of my fault, Rach. After the unfortunate shower incident, I may have been a little wound up. I sort of went on a 10 minute rant when he returned from taking you home, about how you were my best friend, and he better treat you well, and not like some Cheerio trollop. He must have actually been listening, and in typical Finn-fashion took everything I said literally to the extreme."

I appreciated my friend's misguided protectiveness, but what the hell? If this was the problem, I had to figure out a way to get Finn back on track. A track leading directly southward on me, if I had anything to say about it.

"Well, of course, I don't need to be treated like a trollop of the Cherrio or any other variety, but a normal everyday girl who'd like to have a boyfriend and sex sometime before she's 30 would be good for me. Oh, Kurt, what am I going to do?" Okay, now I really _was_ whining.

Kurt's brow furrowed for a moment as he thought about my conundrum. "I've got it! We still have the karaoke machine at our house. Might need Blaine's help..." Kurt mused excitedly.

"Wait. What does the karaoke machine have to do with...? Oh, no...I'm **not** singing to Finn. That would just be... too cheesy."

Kurt patted my arm, "We'll just be four friends who happen to be making use of the karaoke machine. I owe you a duet, remember? We never got to it the night of the party, what with the rotten eggs and the soft-core shower porn. It'll be great! Oh, and we need to get you a new ensemble that says, 'Hello, I'm Rachel Berry, your desirable, sexy girlfriend.'" He pointed at my sweater with little ship wheel symbols on it, "And we need to burn that- really, we do. Uh-huh."

I was getting a bad feeling- a very bad feeling. "Kurt, no stripper outfits this time. Swear to me on your knock-off Louis Vuitton messenger bag!"

* * *

After a very vigorous discussion in the middle of Macy's, Kurt and I agreed on a compromise, my existing short pencil skirt was acceptably sexy, but the nautical themed sweater had to go. Goodbye ship wheels, and hello to a rather sheer gray sweater with no patterns what-so-ever, but you sort of could see my bra through it, so Kurt said it was way hot. I'd have to take his word for it. Luckily, I happened to be wearing some of my nicer lacy lingerie that day.

We picked up Blaine at his house on the way to Kurt's, arriving at the Hudson-Hummel house before 5. Operation Beguile Finn Hudson began in earnest. Kurt used one his many hair products on my long hair to create the just-out-of-bed tousled look to sexy effect. I used the eye liner, mascara and lip balm I had in my bag to highlight "the important aspects of a woman's face" as Kurt said.

I studied myself in the mirror, with my sultry make-up and hair and sheer top and said worriedly, "Kurt, are you sure this top isn't too peekaboo? I am eating dinner with your family after all. Don't want Carole to think her son's hanging out with a cheap slag."

"Rachel, why do you worry so much about this stuff. You don't look cheap! You're a beautiful girl, so why not show it once in a while?" He chided me while clasping my shoulders _(How much did I love my best friend right now?)_, "Besides, Carole and Dad actually have a Lima Chamber of Commerce dinner thing, so they won't be at dinner. The spaghetti sauce is simmering in the slow-cooker, and we're cooking the noodles ourselves."

Kurt insisted I borrow one of Carole's chef aprons to protect my new sweater, and we began dinner preparations. We made a salad and got out crusty Italian bread, so it would be ready to slide in the oven when Finn got home. We were just boiling the noodles when we heard his truck drive up and the front door opened. My heart was doing a funny little tap dance in my chest. Finn coming home to such a domestic scene was strangely pleasant. I felt like Julia fucking Child or something.

"That smells great," he said when he walked into the kitchen to stand next to me while I stirred the spaghetti sauce in the slow cooker, "I'm starving. I was right- Coach really worked our asses off today, but we're ready for the game, at least. Glad I already took a shower in the locker room! When will it be ready?"

"The sauce is good to go any time. Kurt, how are the noodles coming? Kurt?" He and Blaine, who was in charge of heating the bread in the oven, were in a loose hug, giggling to each other in front of the stove. I felt a stab of envy. Blaine and Kurt were so frigging cute together that they practically had rainbows and unicorns spouting from their asses.

"Oh, just a couple of more minutes, Rach. Can you and Finn set the table while we finish up?" Kurt answered when he finally tore his attention from his boyfriend of the twinkly eyes.

Gallantly, Finn reached for the dinner plates, when he realized they were on a high shelf in the cabinet I couldn't hope to reach. I got silverware and glasses. Once all was ready, we each carried our plates of food into the Hudson/Hummel dinning room. As I lifted the chef's apron off over my head, I didn't miss the way Finn's eyes widened as he took in my new semi-see-through top, and finally seemed to notice my efforts with make-up and hair. Kurt shot me a sly smirk. The meal passed with light, fun conversation on all sides. Finn was fairly quiet as he tucked into his food. He really had an appetite after the intense practice, and Kurt didn't hesitate to call him on it when Finn sat down with his second plate, "Geez, Finn. Be sure to stop when you hit the Fiestaware. Carole likes these dishes."

When we were all finished with our plates (for some of us, 3 plates) of food, we went about tidying up together in the kitchen. This is when Kurt orchestrated stage 2 of Make Rachel Berry a GILF (That's: Girlfriend I'd like to fuck _**not**_ to be confused with a similar saying with Grandma in it- just... eww!) in Finn's eyes.

"Rachel, how about a little karaoke?" Kurt eyed me so innocently that I swore then and there never to play poker with my best friend, "I owe you a duet from the famous Halloween party, remember? And Blaine has to take the karaoke machine back home tonight because his brother needs it." Blaine nodded his support to Kurt's statement.

"Oh, I don't know..." I demurred, checking Finn's reaction. Didn't know whether to hope Finn was interested or not. "Finn needs some advice on an English paper."

Finn smiled down at me, "Come on, Rach. It's not due till next week. Kurt's been telling me you have an amazing voice. I'll even offer my services drumming back-up, if that will work for you."

This was just _too_ easy. Now, to hope that Finn would get that the songs we had selected to sing were directed at him specifically along with what that meant. My palms were actually sweaty as we all trudged down to the basement where the karaoke machine and Finn's drum set were handily set up near each other.

Kurt and I started with our duet, a playful version of "Crazy in Love" by Beyonce. It was hysterically fun watching Kurt and Blaine attempt to alternate the rap sections and fail epically, Jay-Z had nothing to worry about there. Finn drummed along gamely, and I was truly impressed. Imagine that, the boy was actually good! Watching him closely, I decided that if he thought the lyrics had any significance, he didn't show it. He flashed me a one-sided smile or two, but otherwise seemed clue-free._ This was going to be a long damn night._

At the finish, Kurt, Blaine, and I group-hugged laughing our asses off as Kurt exclaimed, "Oh, Diva, My Diva, that was _fan-tastic_! Encore! I demand a solo from the beautiful and talented Ms Berry," Applause and drumsticks clacking together erupted at the idea, fluffing my ego, before Kurt continued, "Blaine and I will back you up. Hey- you should sing 'Drumming Song?' You've been working on that, right Finn?"

I nodded affirmative to show I was up for it, as Finn was saying, "Cool! I've almost got that one down."

Kurt and I had discussed my song selection earlier, and I had chosen "Drumming Song" by Florence + the Machine because Kurt had declared that Finn had been driving him crazy by obsessively playing it. In thinking about it, the lyrics seemed to convey the appropriate message for my _big_ drummer boy. I'd even run through the song a couple of times before Finn got home from practice, so at least I was somewhat prepared. _Well, time to nut up or shut up, Rachel Berry!_ Taking a deep breath, I turned to face Finn with a death-grip on the microphone as Blaine cued up the song.

Finn started his drum intro in-time with the karaoke machine, and I took a couple of steps towards him, so I was close enough to see the few tiny drops of sweat on his brow. Watching him drum, really reminded me what a thing I had for his strong, supple hands. Especially when I remembered the few times those hands had played over my body. Danger! Danger! Who was seducing whom here?

Finn, while never missing a beat, contracted his brows in concentration, and eyed me intently across the short distance separating us. At that moment I knew for certain- it wasn't just me who felt the arousal zapping in the air around us. I belted out the lyrics, my voice huskier than usual while I watched him work the drum set. We never broke eye contact, and everything else faded into the background. This was so intensely intimate, so powerfully erotic. The pounding rhythm of the song seemed to echo the blood fluttering madly through my veins to pool between my legs. I fancied I could actually feel the strokes of air whispering across my sensitized skin from the rise and fall of Finn's arms as he struck the drums. Mmm... foreplay through music was fucking awesome!

_"Drumming Song"_

_There's a drumming noise inside my head_  
_That starts when you're around_  
_I swear that you could hear it_  
_It makes such an all mighty sound_

_There's a drumming noise inside my head_  
_That throws me to the ground_  
_I swear that you should hear it_  
_It makes such an all mighty sound_

_Louder than sirens_  
_Louder than bells_  
_Sweeter than heaven_  
_And hotter than hell_

_I ran to a tower where the church bells chime_  
_I hoped that they would clear my mind_  
_They left a ringing in my ear_  
_But that drum's still beating loud and clear_

_Louder than sirens_  
_Louder than bells_  
_Sweeter than heaven_  
_And hotter than hell_

_As I move my feet towards your body_  
_I can hear this beat it fills my head up_  
_And gets louder and louder_  
_It fills my head up and gets louder and louder_

_I run to the river and dive straight in_  
_I pray that the water will drown out the din_  
_But as the water fills my mouth_  
_It couldn't wash the echoes out_  
_But as the water fills my mouth_  
_It couldn't wash the echoes out_

_I swallow the sound and it swallows me whole_  
_Till there's nothing left inside my soul_  
_As empty as that beating drum_  
_But the sound has just begun_

_As I move my feet towards your body_  
_I can hear this beat it fills my head up_  
_And gets louder and louder_  
_It fills my head up and gets louder and louder_

_There's a drumming noise inside my head_  
_That starts when you're around_  
_I swear that you could hear it_  
_It makes such an all mighty sound_

_Louder than sirens_  
_Louder than bells_  
_Sweeter than heaven_  
_And hotter than hell_

_As I move my feet towards your body_  
_I can hear this beat it fills my head up_  
_And gets louder and louder_  
_It fills my head up and gets louder and louder_

If musical orgasms were possible, we certainly both had one by the end of _that_. I was pulsating in places I wasn't even aware _were_ erogenous zones. When the last strains of music faded, we still faced each other- transfixed and panting from our exertions and... something else. As I looked into his eyes, burning brightly, I _knew_ that he wanted me, as I wanted him. It was only a matter of admitting it to each other. _Well...__Fuck __me!_ Yes, double meaning there.

Vaguely aware that Kurt and Blaine were no longer in the room _(How I loved my best friend even more than before!)_, I slowly walked around the drum set separating Finn and me to where he sat on a low stool staring at me, eyes smoldering. Standing between his splayed knees, I placed my hands lightly on his shoulders looking down at him, and said huskily, "I wanted to sing 'Drumming Song' to show you how I feel about...that is, how you make me feel when we're together. I just wanted to know..." Taking a shaky breath in, I continued, trying to keep my voice even and failing, "This is hard for me. I just wanted to know, do you want to _be_ with me?"

I forced myself to keep looking at him, as those expressive eyes narrowed in a pained expression._ Uh-oh. Fuck!_

"Rachel, I..." he began haltingly, "You're beautiful and amazing and funny and **so** sexy. I want you so bad sometimes it keeps me up at night. I want you, but..."

I moved quickly to put my index finger over his lips, mirroring the time I had done so in the tire shop weeks ago, my heart breaking at the thought that this time we wouldn't be kissing passionately afterwards.

Then I finished his sentence for him, "You want me...but not enough." I rushed onward, "It's okay. I get it. It never would've worked anyway. The freak and the quarterback. Huh! Sounds like some kind of twisted fairytale, except you're no prince, and I'm certainly not Cinder-freaking-rella waiting to be turned into a princess."

Finn's big hand wrapped around my wrist to gently move my finger from his lips, so he could speak, "Rachel... it's not... you..."

He looked so tormented, and that just made the little control I was so desperately clutching slip a little more.

"I'll see you around, Finn. No hard feelings, eh?" Pulling at my wrist, I stepped back, almost falling over a snare drum. His hands shot out to steady me, but I brushed them off, "Better to find out sooner rather than later, before one of us might have been... _hurt_."

My voice wavered on the last word. I had to get out of there before I became a blubbering bitch of a mess. I turned and walked, well, _ran_ as quickly as I could up the basement stairs, tears already sliding silently down my cheeks. I thought I heard Finn say something, but I was too far gone to hear or care. All that mattered was that he didn't love me enough to want to be with me. _Wait a fucking minute!_ When had _love_ had any part in this?

By the time I was sitting in my car sobbing as the engine turned over, I realized the irony of what I had just said to Finn. _"Before one of us might have been hurt."_

On the drive home I finally admitted the painful truth to myself. It already was too damn late for me, had been too late for a long time. I was in _love_ with Finn Hudson. Well, wasn't that just a fucking kick in the kitty?!

* * *

_A/N: Remember: this is not the end of the story. Please review and tell me what you think!_


	12. Locked Doors, Warm Hoodies & Bare Thighs

_**I am delighted by all your favorites, alerts, and reviews! Thank you so much!**_

_Part 11 Summary: Rachel is confused about the status of her relationship with Finn. With Kurt and Blaine's help, she seeks to clarify matters by singing Finn a song, which ends with her leaving Finn's house in tears after he tries to explain how he feels about her._

* * *

**Part 12- Locked Doors, Warm Hoodies, and Bare Thighs! Oh My!**

_"Vacillations in perceptions of self and others leading to instability in key relationships."_ Ah, where to begin on this latest dollop of steaming horse shit that found its way onto my shrink's note pad during this week's session. Dr. Mid-Life Crisis with a Fucking Comb-Over needed to look in the damn mirror once in a while. For one thing he might actually learn to accept his receding hairline, if he actually saw how much he looked like Donald Trump circa 2008. Not a good look for a guy, especially when he didn't have millions or his own television show to even _begin_ to carry off such a ridiculous hair style. Another thing, this... for the lack of a better word, _man_ was burying the bone with a stripper who could easily be his biological off-spring in between drinks and doubles tennis matches at his club with his wife of almost two decades. Talk about a house of cards in the relationships department. Eesh. He had the fucking nerve to call my relationships unstable and offer me advice on the matter. I think the meth head, who hung around outside the Quicki-Mart was more qualified. At least he was committed to something.

Truth be told, Dr. Drip and I weren't the _only_ ones "vacillating." There seemed to be a lot of that going around lately. In particular, a certain 6'3'' jewel of a tool, formerly known as Finn Hudson, who recently uttered the words, "You're beautiful, sexy, etc., but it's not you..." I'm pretty sure I know a brush off when I hear one, but what the fuck does that even _mean_? _It's __not __you?_ First he was with Quinn, then he wanted to be with me, but, **no**, what about the hot lesbian Cheerio? Then back to me again, though I guess not_ really_, since he had just given me the "I like you, but not_ that_ much." speech. No wonder I was vacillating! I had been trying to keep up with Finn "I'm So Fucking Confused" Hudson. Well, not anymore- no siree, bub.

After ignoring my mobile phone, which had been ringing and beeping almost constantly (Kurt, most likely) on my drive home from Finn's, I let myself into my blessedly silent and empty house with a feeling of intense relief that my dads were at their weekly Pilates for Partners Class. At least I wouldn't be forced to explain my tear-streaked, splotchy, red-nosed face. Making myself a cup of mint tea, the tonic for tummy aches and heart aches alike, I crept forlornly up to my room and put on my favorite pj's my dads had given me last Hanukkah. Then I planted myself face first on my puffy comforter-covered bed and cried a little more. Damn Finn Hudson for making me love him! He should have a big label tattooed across his forehead saying "Warning! I am a tool who likes to fuck with women's minds for fun!"

My phone beeped in my bag across the room for the fifth time before I finally summoned the energy to care enough to stand up and drag myself over to retrieve it. There were 3 missed calls from Finn _(B__ut__ who gave a flying fuck?),_ and 2 missed calls along with 4 texts from Kurt that read as follows:

_Rachel! Pick up your phone this instant!_

_Can't I leave you 2 alone for 10 minutes w/o fear of dramatics?_

_Finn making less sense than usual- what did you do to him?_

_Prepare for invasion- Viking step-brother on way over!_

Why was Finn coming over here when he'd just dumped my ass? Maybe he felt bad, with guilt so intense it was driving him to apologize or something. Shit, shit, shit! _Finn __was __coming __here_, and I was in Hello Kitty flannel pj's! I scurried into the bathroom and cringed at my reflection in the mirror. My face looked like I had a scorchingly uneven sunburn while my eyes were a bright shade of pink that matched my pj's.

Why oh, why couldn't I be a pretty crier like Bergman or Quinn? Oh, crappity crap! Okay, I'm _not_ home, I went for a post break-up fro-yo or something... _D__amn- __car __in __driveway_! _Think, Rachel, think... I'm in the shower, so I don't hear him at the door. Yeah. That could work._

As I was debating on whether to actually get _in_ the shower to lend some truth to the tale I'd be telling Kurt and possibly Finn, the doorbell rang. New meaning for the John Donne quote, "For whom the bell tolls, it tolls for me... " Yipers! Standing, or should I say cowering, there in the doorway of my bedroom it hit me: Why was I hiding from Finn "Fuckwit" Hudson like some spineless, gutless, shrinking violet? I was a strong, independent woman, dammit. I was going to march right down there and answer the door with cool dignity and smooth carelessness. I was**_ not_** a quivering, sniveling little girl, who needed some big tool of a guy to validate her existence. In other words, who needed him?! Fuck him _and_ his big tool, too! But first I was going to brush my hair out to hide some of my splotchy face, put a touch of powder on my red nose, and throw on a robe over the pink Hello, Kitty pajamas.

Finn was knocking rather loudly on my front door by the time I walked slowly in a composed fashion down the stairs into the foyer. The stairs could be seen through the beveled glass of the front door, so I didn't want to look anxious by hurrying down them to open the door.

"Rach?" I heard his voice through the door, "I know you're home. You're car's in the driveway, and I can see you."

I swung the door open with what I hoped was a slightly bored air, and stood in the doorway, not inviting him in. Butt-munches who dumped me did _not_ get to come in for tea and a chat. What he had to say could be said on the front fucking porch. I raised my eyebrows regally in askance as he stood there gaping- with his mouth open, of course. Damn, I wanted a moth to fly in there so badly, and then he'd gag, and I'd hesitate a _long_ time before performing the Heimlich Maneuver and saving his sorry-assed life. Alas, it was too cold for moths to be hanging around the front porch lights, but it was a satisfying fantasy anyway, while it lasted.

Actually, it _was_ pretty cold out here, and _I_ was kind of slowly turning blue. Seriously regretting my decision to lose the flannel pj's altogether in favor of an above the knee kimono-style silk robe. I had wanted him to get a good look at what he'd just dumped. I figured flashing a little leg and maybe a bit of cleavage would distract him from my red nose and eyes.

Definitely, distracting him at the moment- his eyes had dropped to my chest and were sort of hanging out there where my nipples were standing at attention against the silky fabric of my robe due to the arctic-like air that was wafting through the open doorway. Oops. I fought the urge to cross my arms over my chest with all my might. Let him look, 'cause that was all he was_ ever_ going to get.

Nope, couldn't do it, just too damn cold. His eyes skittered back up to mine when I wrapped my arms about myself, covering my chest. He blinked a couple of times before stammering, "C-can I come in?"

"No. I only let friends, vacuum cleaner salesmen, and roving religious fanatics into my house, and you are none of those," I replied stonily. _Well, __so __much __for __being __coolly __dignified. __I __was __just __too __pissed._

"Come on, Rachel," his tone cajoling as his glance fell meaningfully downward to my chest, "I _know_ you're cold."

Stepping defiantly out onto the porch and shutting my front door behind me with a distinct slam, I moved to stand on my absolute tip-toes, so I was closer to being in his face before I ground out, "If letting you in my house meant the difference between a horrible frozen death and survival, I _still_ wouldn't let you in. Now say what you have to say and then get the hell off my front porch, Finn!"

"Not going to make this easy are you?" Finn let out a long-suffering sigh and ran his hand through his hair, while his eyes roved from the tips of my sock feet to the top of my head, with pauses at my bare legs now covered in attractive goose-flesh and my chattering teeth.

"At least put a coat on or something. Here, take my hoodie." He pulled his McKinley Athletics hoodie over his head and none too gently shoved it over my head. I was suddenly enveloped in the Finn-ness that generally turned my knees to jelly. Foul cheater! How was I supposed to stay mad when cocooned in his hoodie, still warm from his body? And it smelled _so_ good. Blowing some hair that had gotten pushed over my glaring eyes out of my face, I shoved my arms into the way-too-long sleeves.

I steeled myself as I watched goosebumps rise on the bare skin of his arms not covered by his t-shirt, while he tucked his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and raised his shoulders in an effort to get warm. His junkage could shrivel up and fall off for all I cared! After weeks of stringing me along with the kissing and the hugging, he dumped me like yesterday's garbage. I was _glad_ he was cold, and it was not my damn problem. Besides, he could get in his truck and go home, if he didn't like the temperature.

"Rachel...I...crap. I am _so_ not good at this kind of thing," he shot me one of his squinty-eyed, pained expressions, and I felt myself thawing a little already, before he continued with, "Kurt said I should just tell the truth and say what I feel, so here goes..."

He shifted from foot to foot a couple of times, while I watched silently in anticipation, "Well, the fact is, Rachel, you scare the hell out of me."

I couldn't help it. I started laughing like a lunatic. It was either laugh or cry, so I chose the former. Not only did the man I...oh, fuck it... _love_, have the nerve to_ not_ love me back, but now had the further gall to stand there in front of me confessing that I terrified him. I guess everything my shrink had ever said about me was true- I was one scary, angry bitch, who had intimacy issues and lousy taste in men.

I finally got myself under control enough to wipe at my eyes, now tearing from laughter, and look back at Finn. Even the tips of his ears were bright red, and he seemed a little irritated and well... hurt.

"Ehrm... I do have that effect on some people, I guess, but Finn..." I craned my neck to look into his eyes, "Why would Mr. Danger-to-Women-Everywhere, not to mention being 6-foot-something **you** be scared of little old freaky me? I mean you've been with Quinn and …. Santana, both of whom are way more scary than me."

"That's just it..." Finn stepped closer and pulled on the drawstrings of my, I mean, _his_ hoodie to reel me in like a fish caught on a line, "You scare me because I've **never** felt anything like what I feel for you with them. I mean, yeah, you do have some anger issues, and you can be sort of... intense, like I said before. I kind of like that, though. I can usually tell what you're feeling. Like tonight, after you sang to me, which was amazing, by the way, I knew that I totally fu... screwed up what I meant to say."

"Yeah, you did sort of fuck it up," I agreed, nodding resolutely, "It seemed like you were dumping me earlier tonight, especially given how disinterested you've been in um... _(Ah, crap! Time to wade through the awkward. )_... being intimate with me since the whole Kurt catching us in the shower incident."

"Rach, that's not what I meant at all! I _**want**_ to be with you- including being… intimate with you. So much!" he looked away from me and blushed an even darker shade of red before looking back, "I want you so much, that sometimes I just … I'm afraid I won't be able to control myself, like at the garage or in the shower before Kurt walked in on us. Feeling you against me all wet and naked like that, it was like a fantasy and _epically_ hot. I just wanted to wrap you around me and … well, you know." Tucking his chin, he looked down sheepishly after his shamed confession.

"So, let me see if I understand what you're saying here," I reached up and put both palms on either side of his jaw, and gently moved his chin, so I could look him in the eye, "You're scared of your strong feelings for me. You want to have sex with me, and you're afraid you'll lose control with me."

He didn't speak, just nodded his head in my hands.

"Well, Finn Hudson, you big dolt," I grinned up at him, "I have some pretty intense feelings for you, too. I most certainly want to have sex with you, and I can't _wait_ to lose control with you." I raised myself up until my lips were almost against his, before I whispered, " And I want you to be so out of control when you're with me, that you can't even _remember_ to be afraid about it. Does that sound good to you?"

"Oh...yes. So good," he hissed out before he closed the tiny space between us and pretty much attacked my mouth in a fiery kiss. His tongue was thrusting between my lips before my gasp of surprise had even ended. I staggered a step until my back was against the front door, while my hands moved over his jaw and upwards until my fingers were buried in his hair, tugging lightly to pull him even closer to me. Somebody moaned and a whimper was the response. His big, strong hands burrowed under the bottom edge of my hoodie, to grasp my ass through the silk beneath. A little hop, and I was suspended between the door and Finn's large body.

Wrapping my forearms around his neck, I laughed huskily, "Why is it I always end up swept off my feet against hard surfaces making out with you? Not complaining, you understand, but this is becoming a thing with us."

The corner of his mouth kicked up as he moved in for another searing kiss before saying, "You said you wanted me to loose control. This is me loosing control. I just can't get... enough... of... you," he planted lingering open mouth kisses on my lips in between each word.

Oh. My. Sweet. Mouth. Orgasm.

"Unh...Finn..." I could barely say his name. I swallowed hard before continuing a little more coherently, "My dads will be home soon. Do you want to step up to my room for a bit? Not that we can... but it's better than out here."

"So, are you saying I rate as a friend or salesman or fanatic or whatever now?" Finn's grin flashed evilly in the amber porch light.

I should have been irritated at his teasing reference to my earlier words, but he leaned to nuzzle the sensitive spot just below my ear, and I couldn't summon a drop of fury just then. Eventually, I put my hands on his chest to brace myself, as I slid to stand on my feet again, tormenting us both on the way down his body.

"Don't push your luck, Hudson," I teased as I reached to turn the doorknob to open the front door for us. That was the plan anyway, "Oh, crap! The lock must have been turned." I tried to twist the knob a little harder, as if fervent wishing would suddenly magically unlock it.

"We have spare key hidden under a flower pot at my house," Finn offered helpfully, "Do you have anything like that?"

I sighed heavily, "Not since my dads saw a segment on CNN about home security, and how burglars use hidden keys to break in. They should be home in a half-hour or so, but meanwhile I'm standing out here in your hoodie and little else. Not the way I want you to meet them again. 'Hi, dads, you remember Finn. By the way, just ignore the fact that I'm wearing nothing but a robe and a hoodie."

"Really... nothing? Like nothing-nothing?" Finn looked down at my body again a little hungrily.

I glared at him, and it was my turn to blush.

"All...right," Finn wrenched his gaze away from my bare legs, "Anyway, do you have a garage door opener in your car? Bet that's locked too, though, right?" I nodded, kind of enjoying my big strong guy stepping up to help me break back in my house. That's just it, had we even established he _was_ my big strong guy?

"Well, we could check the other door and the windows," I said without much hope. "Maybe we'll get lucky, and something got left unlocked."

Finn followed me around my house heading for the back door, checking all the first floor windows that he could reach, finding none unlocked, of course.

"Um, Finn, not to belabor the point, but does this mean we're like in a relationship now or what? I mean a couple who breaks in a house together... that ought to mean something, right?" I was trying to couch my clumsy question to clarify our relationship in a lame joke._ How pathetic was I?_ I just _had_ to finally know for sure. Time to at least get a verbal contract on the deal.

Finn was just trying the back door when he said, "No," my heart lurched in my chest, "It's locked. I guess I never really thought about it, Rach, but yeah," he walked across the patio to smile down at me bewitchingly, "I guess we are. That is," he frowned, "if you want to be, I mean."

"Oh, I want to be alright. Yes!" I had just looked up and noticed the bathroom window, several feet higher off the ground than our other windows was open a few inches. Must have forgotten to shut it after my shower this morning.

"Glad to see you're excited about it, Rach," he leaned down to give me a big hug.

"No..." I said, as I savored the hug, "I mean I _am_ excited, but look up there. The bathroom window is cracked. Do you think you can reach it?"

Finn stepped back looking up at window that was at least 9 feet from the ground, "Hmm...I could try to jump, maybe."

While Finn's attempts to take a running jump to reach the window sill resulted in him going splat in a spectacularly funny way against the brick wall of my house, I really tried so hard not to laugh. Finally, after having to disguise a bubble of laughter as a little cough and worrying about him doing himself serious harm, I said, "Finn, that's not going to work. I think we should try something else."

We both stood staring at the out-of-reach window a few moments until Finn exclaimed excitedly, "I've got it! I'll give you a boost. Do you think you could reach if you were on my shoulders? Maybe even stand a little and shimmy in?"

_Oh, what could possibly go wrong with this plan?_ Me six feet off the ground with my legs wrapped around Finn's neck in a hoodie and slinky robe attempting to "shimmy" into a window. Yeah. Not happening. I turned to suggest we just drive to his house, where I could borrow some clothes again.

He had this keen, helpful look, much like I would imagine a faithful Saint Bernard would have after rescuing his master from an avalanche or something. Seriously, wanted to scratch him behind his ears just then. I was so going to regret this.

Finn knelt down into a crouch, bracing himself against the wall with his hands, and chimed cheerfully, "Okay, Rach, climb up on my shoulders."

I knew what this was. This was the universe's twisted, fucked up sense of humor or revenge or whatever for all the times I'd joked about climbing up him and causing trouble. Sighing, I stepped up and gingerly placed a thigh on either side of his neck, being sure to tuck the robe against little Miss Rachel, if you take my meaning. So far so good, but then Finn started to stand. Reflexively I grabbed for something, and ended up with two fistfuls of his hair. I was reminded of the time when I was 5 and my dads took me to the county fair and let me ride a pony. Now, on Finn's shoulders, I remembered why we never, _ever_ did it again. On the pony I had been 3 feet off the ground tops, now I was almost double that. _Oh, God._ Finn put both his hands on my bare thighs to stabilize me, but, despite the happy sex feels, I still felt like I was going to fall over backwards.

"Uh, Finn," I gulped nervously, "I'm thinking this isn't such a good idea... Hey!" I couldn't be sure, as I tried to see his face more clearly, but it was difficult from my vantage point. He looked like he was enjoying himself far too much with his head sandwiched between my legs, "You better not be smirking down there! There is nothing enjoyable or funny about this, do you understand me?"

"Of course not, Rach, just, could you kind of ease up on my hair, a little? I'd like to have some left when I reach 17," he let out a little groan before continuing, "I've seen the Cheerios do this sort of stuff all the time. It'll be fine. Just relax."

Though I did try to relax my fingers as much as I could, it probably wasn't enough. He had a thick head of hair- so he could afford to have me pull out a little, I rationalized, grumbling, "Don't tell me to relax, Finn Hudson, and really not the time to bring up how un-Cheerio-like I am."

"Actually, you're hotter for that," he said, _just __trying __to __butter __me __up, __and __I __knew __it._ He continued in what I assumed was meant to be a soothing voice, "Okay, now you're going to have to reach up and raise the window. Good thing there isn't a screen to deal with, too."

I was startled to see the window virtually right in front of me, within easy reach, if I let go of Finn... I'd have to let go of Finn. _Shit.__Damn.__Fuck._

Letting out a little whimper, I lifted one hand and then the other, simultaneously clinching my thighs as tightly as I could around Finn's neck, his smirk be damned! Sure didn't expect to be doing _this_ when I woke up this morning. I curled my fingers through the 2 inch opening and tried to lift the window. It moved maybe an inch. _Could __I __possibly __catch __a __break __at __some __point __during __this __little __adventure? ...__Apparently __not._

As my last question was hanging in a little cartoon thought bubble over my head, the answer followed with the sick feeling of doom- I heard the back door open, and my dads' voices filtered through the cold night air as they walked onto the patio, "Hiram, I tell you, I heard voices, and where is Rachel? Her car's here."

"You're just being paranoid. Ever since we went to that haunted dinner theater in Clarksville, you have been so jumpy. There's no one out here... " my dad scolded as he walked to the edge of our backyard patio. Dad's voice trailed off when his gaze fell on me- perched atop Finn Hudson's shoulders, like some weird totem pole, my bare thighs in a death grip around Finn's neck. _Oh, __fuckamighty!_ "Uh, LeRoy, I found our daughter."

* * *

_Well, that **is** awkward! What should Finn and Rachel do? Suggestions? I'd love to hear them._


	13. When Alice Fell

**I _would __be __nothing __without __you, __my dear __readers! __Thank __you __for __your patience & __support __in __the __form __of __reviews, __alerts, __and __favorites!_**

_VB was listening to "White Rabbit" by Jefferson Airplane when she wrote this latest update. Let's play a game: how many Alice in Wonderland references can you find? Some are subtle and some not so much. I own nothing to do with **Glee** or **Alice's ****Adventures ****in ****Wonderland**._

_**Part 12 Summary:** Finn and Rachel declared their interest in having sex with each other on Rachel's front porch. Alas, their amorous adventures were cut short when they realized they were locked out of Rachel's house. In an attempt to get back in her house, Rachel climbed on top of Finn's shoulders to reach a window at least 9 feet off the ground. They have just been discovered by Rachel's dads in this compromising position._

* * *

**Part 13- When Alice Fell**

"_Essential: Must __learn __to __ask __for __help __when __it __is __needed, __and __accept __it __graciously __when __it __is __offered.__"_ Pft! Dr. Mad-as-a-Fucking-Hatter doesn't know much, and that's a fact!* Obviously, he hadn't been paying attention during our sessions. Not really. If he _had_ been listening he would have known what happened in my family when one asked for help. I once asked my dad for help with my geometry homework, and by the next week I had a math tutor who was attending MIT the following year in addition to being a card-carrying member of Mensa. Overkill much? I adored my dads, they were so supportive and generally so accepting of me, but it was no secret that we were a family prone to strong personalities with idiosyncrasies that made for a certain amount of intensity whenever more than one Berry was in a room. Actually, even one Berry was enough to bring about the drama.

Case in point, here I was, teetering precariously 6 feet off the ground atop Finn Hudson's shoulders _**graciously **__**accepting **__**his **__**help**__ (even when I thought it was an f-ing crazy idea!)_ to get back in my locked house by trying to climb through an open bathroom window. What made it even more interesting was the fact that in a fit of pique, I had decided, earlier in the evening, to use my feminine wiles on Finn, the result of which left me wearing only a thin silk robe and his hoodie. The back of his neck, in fact, was currently in intimate contact with my very _happy_ place- Disney World wouldn't even compare. I suspected that Finn _felt_ his good fortune by the way I could _**feel**_ that he was sporting a big dopey grin from ear to ear. How did I know he was smiling while I was perched on his shoulders with _no_ view of his face, you might ask. Well, I had my bare thighs clamped tightly around his neck, and his cheeks were nearby-neighbors of his neck, of course. I'll spell it out: I could feel his fucking smirk with my thighs. How often can a girl say _**that**_? Well... maybe more often than one might think, but I should at least get the orgasm that would generally come with a smile that big... that was currently being felt... between my thighs.

Suddenly, this got even more exiting and _not_ in the good way. Surprise! Hello, Dads! _ An alien abduction involving me dematerializing would be fantastic about now! _Finn apparently saw my dads walk out onto the backyard patio around the time I did, because I could detect definite tension from where I was um... sitting. My fathers were looking somewhat confused to find me in such an unexpected place, and intermittently glaring hostilely at Finn. Finn froze, like one of those animals you happen to see in the yard once in while, like a rabbit or mouse, which thinks it's about to be gobbled up by a large predator. Finn wasn't moving. I bet he didn't even blink. I should have been so lucky.

The few seconds I pondered this seemed to stretch an eternity, as I looked at my dads with abject horror and mortification at being balanced atop my new boyfriend's shoulders with my bare legs (_and __other__ mostly __bare __things)_ encircling his neck intimately. Suddenly, time snapped back into place and I just sort of, kind of _forgot_ that I was still 6 feet off the ground in a rather unstable position. (It should also be noted: I'm a girl who faithfully shaves and moisturizes her legs every morning. _Remember__ my unfortunate development of body __hair __in __grade __school?__ N__ever __again!) _When I started to topple backwards from Finn's shoulders, he desperately tried to stop my fall, his strong hands clutching at my thighs, while my smooth, supple skin literally slipped through his fingers. I vaguely remember instinctively trying to grab his hair or anything else, to keep me in my um... seat but no joy there.

Having taken lessons in just about every form of dance known to man with the exception of a few nomadic tribal dances of South America, I learned early, age 3 to be exact, that falling was not so bad. It was strangely peaceful for the few fractions of a second you drifted with nothing but air between you and the ground. No, _falling_ wasn't the problem- it was the _**landing**_ that was the fucking bitch from hell that rose up to kick you in the ass and various other body parts, every damn time.

A small blessing, after falling from Finn's back, I don't actually remember landing- the bitch decided to be gracious _this_ time. Next I knew, I was sprawled on my back on the cold, hard ground. Just about every part of my body hurt, even my teeth, from what I could only assume was one bitch of a landing. Finn and my dads were kneeling around me exclaiming all kinds of confusing and seemingly unrelated things like: "God, I'm so sorry!"; "Don't move her!"; "Call 911!"; "I just couldn't get a good grip."; "Is she not wearing any...?" etc., etc.

I may have faded out there for a bit. When I managed to pry open my eyes again, men in black uniforms, were carefully putting a hard collar around my neck resembling what Queen Elizabeth the First would have worn in the 1500's, except it was plastic. Fashionable it was _not_- Kurt would have had a fit! Then they started doing really annoying things like shining lights in my eyes and carefully moving me onto a hard wooden mattress. I seemed to come fully back to myself around that time, because I suddenly remembered what I'd been wearing, or _not_ wearing to be more precise. A dammit moment if ever there was one! I was probably flashing the V to my dads, Finn, and random rescue personnel. _Never setting foot outside my door without underwear again. Never! Ever!_ Though, when I gazed around in panic, no one seemed too scandalized. I did see both my dads' pale, worried faces, however.

"Dads,"I tried to look up at them despite the stiff collar, speaking in what I hoped was a steady voice, "I think I'm going to be okay. Just give me a minute, and I'll get up and walk it off." Generally, that's what I did when I fell in dance class, after all, but when I moved to sit up, several pairs of hands held me down.

"Rachel, lie still! Let the paramedics look at you first," my dad's eyes widened behind his glasses.

"Really, I think I'm fine," I said a little more firmly, "I just got the wind knocked out of me. Happens all the time in dance. _(That __was a __lie, __but __they __both __looked __so __worried, so I kept talking.)_ You know what they say, I just need to get right back on the horse...Well, maybe not in **this** particular case, but..."

"Hiram, she's delirious, she must have hit her head," Daddy said in nervous voice. _Yes, __I __still __called __one __of __my__ fathers__, D__addy.__ T__ry __coming __up __with __two __distinct __names __for __dad._

"LeRoy, don't scare her," Dad commanded as he leaned over me, so he could look into my eyes, "Rachel, honey, don't move. They're just going to take you to the hospital to check you out. Daddy will ride with you, while I stay here with..." He hesitated looking in the direction over my head. I heard Finn's voice answer and give my dad his name before Dad continued, "... with Finn and talk to the police."

"Dad, I don't need to go to the hospital. I'll be alright... Wait! Police? Why are the police here?" I asked in confusion and dismay.

I really tried to tell myself that I didn't give a flying fuck if all of Lima knew that Rachel Berry, wearing next to nothing, had fallen off Finn Hudson in her back yard resulting in the police and an ambulance being called. This whole thing was just getting weirder and weirder. I felt like Alice in Fucking Wonderland, having fallen down a rabbit hole. Definitely wishing I'd meet up with the caterpillar with his magic mushroom and hookah- sooner rather than later. If ever there was a time for mind-altering substances, this was it- feeling like I'd been hit by a truck _and_ suffering the humiliation of having my boyfriend of less than an hour see me in a plastic collar that could double as a birth control device. Definitely _not_ sexy. **Bring on the damn drugs!**

"It's just standard procedure in cases like this, honey. They have to rule out domestic violence and what not," Dad answered, nodding to the two officers standing a little away from the crowd around me.

"Domestic violence! There was no domestic violence, I just, klutz that I am, fell off Finn's shoulders while trying to get back in the house after I locked myself out," I wailed, all this explaining was starting to make my head pound even more.

"Calm down, Rachel," Daddy responded this time, "We'll sort it out. You just relax."

"I'm getting tired of people telling me to do that," I grumbled rather childishly, thinking of Finn and his earlier admonishment that I 'just relax' atop his shoulders. Well, _that_ hadn't turned out well at all!

"Finn?" I called into the group at large, "Are you still here?" _Totally wouldn't have blamed him if he'd bailed on my plastic dog-cone-wearing, __ bruised black and blue_ ass. _**Why?**__ Why was I always falling on my ass around him? The Gods of Balance and Coordination must hate me like __**a lot**__. Ugh! So unfair!_

Out of the group of shadowy figures around me, a tall form materialized at my right side and tentatively took my hand, "I'm here, Rach. God, I am _so_ sorry. We should have just waited in my truck for your dads to get home. It's all my fault, I never should have suggested it..."

Well, Finn was basically a gibbering wreck, and of course, he blamed himself. Yes, it _had_ been his idea for me to climb on his shoulders 6 feet off the ground, but I was the damn idiot who'd actually done it and then not been sensible enough to stay up there.

"Finn, this is _**not**_ your fault, _(not __completely __anyway)_. I wasn't paying attention, and I just lost my balance," I argued earnestly, looking up at him from my position on the ground, "Hey- What's that on the side of your head near your ear? It looks like a... scratch."

"You tried to hang on," Finn replied, shrugging dismissively, "It's nothing. Doesn't even hurt."

"Oh, Finn!" I eyed the 3 inch long scrape running from his temple to his ear with dismay, "Have someone here look at it. You need to at least get it cleaned and dressed, so it doesn't scar."

"Really, it's just a scratch. I get worse at football practice," he demurred, before he leaned closer to me, and continued in an anxious tone, "It's you I'm worried about. I can't believe I let you fall! I tried to hold onto you, but I just couldn't, you just slipped backwards out of my hands. Then you were on the ground and so still. I was so scared, Rachel..."

_Aww... He was kind of freaked out, like he really cared. How sweet was that?_ Cutting into his fretting before he got more wound up, I asked sardonically, "Then why is it you or Puck always bring up football injuries when you're trying to convince me not to worry about you? Have them look at the scratch, okay? Promise me."

"Anything you want, Rach," Finn replied fervently, looking as though he'd personally carry me to the hospital, if I asked him to. _Hmm...__ sh__ould __definitely try to __parlay__ all this concern for my well-being __into __something__ useful__.__ T__oo __early __in __the __relationship __to __demand __guilt __sex __(Damn!), __besides __I __wasn't __exactly__ feeling __up __for __it__..__._

"_Anything_ I want, huh?" I said in a low voice, shooting him a secret little smile. A girl could look out for her future interests, after all. Besides, I was feeling a little better just thinking about what I could have him do to me, or what I could do to him in the not too distant future.

Finn looked around shyly to see if anyone could overhear us, before answering my question, "Uh, yeah. _Anything_ you want."

"Oh, goody!" I beamed like a Cheshire Cat, until a moment later when a uniformed EMT appeared at the other side of me, picked up the hand Finn wasn't holding, and moved it. I yowled like a cat, "Ow! Ow! **Dammit!** Fuck me! Ow!"

_Did I say __**all**__ of that out-loud?_ Must have because, Mr. Practically-Pull-My-Hand-the-Fuck-Off called to the other EMT nearby, "Lewis, possible fractured wrist and thumb on her left hand. She must have put it out as she hit the ground."

"Oh, God! Did you hear that, Hiram. Her wrist and thumb are broken," Daddy wailed.

"Daddy, he said _possible_!" I gritted out through clenched teeth, suddenly aware that my wrist was positively more sore than the rest of me, and my thumb was throbbing like someone had whacked it repeatedly with a cement croquet mallet.

"Noted in her paperwork, sir. Ready to get her loaded?" EMT Lewis called to the other guy currently touching my hand, who I decided to name EMT Ass-munch.

"Baby, I'm right here! Be the brave girl I know you are," Daddy sort of cooed at me, as he walked next to the stretcher now moving towards the ambulance. I guess I looked pretty pathetic since he'd reverted to the tone he'd used when I had the chicken pox at 7 and a half.

Finn was standing next to Dad, witnessing my reversion into childhood. Not good. He shot me a small crooked smile and said, "Hey, Rach, I'll see you there as soon as I can. Take care, okay?"

At this Dad rounded on Finn, forcefully pointing a finger in Finn's face, "You! I think you have done quite enough for one night, young man. I've got friends who are judges in the juvenile courts. They can make you disappear for a _long_ time, Flipper or whatever your name is!"

_Did I just leave my new boyfriend alone with my scary-as-shit lawyer dad? Ah, crap!_

"Dad!" I glared at my father in warning as they hoisted me into the back of the ambulance, "No scaring the innocent wildlife! I mean it!"

I watched as they shut the ambulance doors on Finn turning to fully face my dad- brave, stupid boy. I felt a twitch of unease. That was a catastrophe in the making and just a continuation of the cluster fuck my night had become. Sigh.

"Hey, Lewis, you got anything in here that'll kill me quickly?" I quipped to the young EMT with skin the color of rich coffee, who seated himself next to my stretcher as we trundled toward the hospital.

"Girl, you go looking for poisons, you're bound to find something that will disagree with you sooner or later*," he responded with like-humor, his brown eyes twinkling merrily at me. Daddy just looked at us both in alarm when we started laughing.

* * *

Hours later, I was drowsing in my hospital bed in a dim private room at Lima Memorial Medical Park. They insisted on keeping me overnight for observation, and I was just too damned tired to argue with them. Evidently, an extremely mild concussion, a sprained wrist, a broken thumb, and bruising over a significant portion of your ass won you hospital time. Yipee.

I sensed someone in the shadows before I saw Finn lean forward and say in a hushed voice, "Hey there... didn't mean to wake you, I just wanted to check and see that you were alright. How are you getting on? You aren't in much pain are you?"

"No," my voice was rusty from sleep, "They have good drugs here. I highly recommend them. Your scratch looks better, though maybe it's the lighting. Sorry about that, by the way." I nodded in the direction of his wound.

"Rach," he shook his head, letting out a gusty sigh as his face took on that squinty expression only Finn could make, before continuing, "I'm so sorry for _everything_."

"Finn, there's no need to..." I began tiredly.

"Let me say this, will you?" Finn reached out and pressed a finger to my lips, "When I say I'm sorry for _everything_, I'm not just talking about tonight, which was, honestly, a total disaster. I'm not even sure your dads will ever let me in your house again."

"They're just being their normal crazy-Berry, overprotective selves," I murmured against his finger, "Once they get to know you, I'm sure they'll lo...like you as much as I do." _Crikey, never try to have a serious conversation while under the influence of narcotics!_

Finn looked at me and smiled, a sweet, sincere, melt-me-into-a-puddle, good-thing-I-was-lying-down-already smile, "I 'lo-like' you, too, Rach."

"You caught that, huh? Oopsies! I have almost **no** edit button right now- what with falling and the drugs and all," I rambled. _I was blushing! How very high school. Gag._

"Hmmm..." his smile turned a little wicked, "So, like truth serum, huh? I could ask you all sorts of questions and find out your darkest secrets."

"Be very afraid, Finn Hudson. There's some whacked out shit up here, and tonight, I'm not myself, you see," I tapped my head jokingly with my splinted hand.

"I _do_ see, and I realized something important when you fell..." Finn took my wounded hand in his large, warm hands, holding my wrist and fingers delicately, then bending his head to place a soft, lingering kiss on the bare skin of my palm where the splint ended before saying, "After _**that**_, I'm not so afraid anymore, Rach."

My fingers flexed involuntarily around his, and I actually trembled. I knew he could feel it holding my hand. Could he also feel my heart fluttering madly or that I was suddenly breathless and speechless?

"Only one thing I need to know..." Finn shifted to lean over me, so close I could see the amber irises of his eyes even in the low-light, "Will you go out with me? On a real date, where I pick you up, and we go someplace together. Of course, together, because I want you..."

Already nodding, I looked up at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence, but he didn't seem inclined, so I prompted, "You want me...?"

"Actually, that's it. I want _you_." He spoke the last word with deliberateness, and his lips connected with mine in a slow, tender kiss- our eyes open, unblinking, and I really saw him, just as he saw me.

* * *

_Notes: The phrases above followed by asterisks are quotes from __**Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll**__._

_Thanks for reading! Reviews are the stuff of love..._


	14. Tighty-whities Are Too Sexy

**_Sorry for the delay in updating! Thanks for your patience, my dear readers!_**

_**Part 13 Summary:** Finn and Rachel are locked out of her house, leading to Rachel's attempt to reach an open window by climbing atop Finn's shoulders, and consequently falling when her dads find them thus. A trip to the hospital for her injuries results, where Finn and Rachel declare their feelings for each other, and Finn suggests they go on a real date to establish their relationship._

_Warning: Spoilers regarding Santa and the Tooth Fairy. Read at your own risk._

* * *

**Part 14- Tighty-Whities Are Too Sexy**

"_Faith __in __self __and __others __lacking.__"_ Uh-huh. Yeah. Let's talk about faith. My panache for googling words strikes again. Faith is defined as complete trust and firm belief in something for which there is no proof- like Santa or the Tooth Fairy, for example. I'd as soon believe in either of those questionable characters than the man who may or may not have gotten his degree in psychology from an online ad he clicked while looking for porn.

Anyway, I don't know what Dr. Stab-Me-in-the-Fucking-Forehead-with-My-Own-Writing-Utensil was talking about. I had faith in lots of things. For example: I had faith that my bagel with cream cheese would land cream cheese side down every damn time I accidentally dropped it on the floor. I had complete faith that Kurt and I would be roommates in New York City while pursuing our dreams as a fashion designer and Broadway star respectively. But did I have faith that Finn Hudson and I would have sex in the near future and not break each others hearts in the process? Well, not so much. Let's just say, I wasn't in a rush to call my bookie (Mr. Fedderman, dance partner/accountant extraordinaire) to place a bet on Finn and I doing the nasty and settling into a stable relationship afterwards. I had hopes; I had wishes; I had longing, but to say I had _faith_ would be overstating the case a bit.

Two days after my fall from grace and from Finn's shoulders, I found myself gingerly sitting hip to hip with him on his bed in his room after school and football practice for him, and after a mind-numbingly boring albeit frustrating day at home for me. I was seriously finding the whole bruised ass, sprained wrist, broken thumb, and mild concussion thing fucking annoying. I never realized how much I used my left hand, and with it splinted and often in a sling, I was like a bird with a broken damn wing or something. Couldn't drive, so I was basically on house arrest. Eating was an ordeal! Food wasn't supposed to move, but it did. Try spreading cream cheese on a damn bagel with one hand, I dare you. Don't even get me started on how hard it was to dress and undress one-handed. Pulling up panties with one hand- not recommended. Speaking of undressing and panties, I cast a side-long glance over at my newly-minted boyfriend, currently absorbed in a rather violent video game on the screen sitting on a small table across from his bed. It was so sweet of Finn to pick me up, after I had whined about how fricking bored I was having to stay home from school as per doctors' and dads' orders for a second day of recovery. Only so many times a girl can re-watch _The __Way __We __Were_ before it becomes depressing and maudlin. Also, I was beginning to think all men had the potential to be slack, self-absorbed tools a la Robert Redford's character, which was not a healthy mind-set for someone officially in a brand new relationship with a man _(or tool- yet to be determined)_.

Finn and I decided it would be best to seek refuge at his house. Both my dads were still more than a little miffed at Finn for the role he'd played in me falling almost 6 feet and actually having to be hospitalized. The way I figured, Finn and I shared the blame, but being my dads' little princess made them less than impartial. When Finn asked what I'd like to do when we arrived at his house, I made the colossal mistake of answering his question with: "Whatever. What would you be doing if I weren't here?"

Silly me! Should have asked what he'd do given I _was_ there. Might have involved making out or something interesting, but as it was, he suggested a short Black Ops session before dinner and homework. Never let it be said, that being a girl, I didn't see the appeal of blasting the shit out of stuff. Good stress relief, especially with the McKinley playoff football game set for the next night. Finn was wound pretty tight about it, though he tried not to let on. Black Ops it was then- for now.

Well, _this_ girl could entertain herself by watching her boyfriend's long, sinewy fingers move deftly over an Xbox controller to expertly chuck grenades at hostiles. I swallowed hard, practically choking on my desire to have those fingers on me, moving over me, touching my skin. Mmm... Meanwhile, Finn sat obliviously next to me on _his __bed_ continuing his crusade to Prestige in Black Ops. I pressed my thighs together and suppressed a little groan.

"You alright, Rach? Thumb or wrist hurting or any other err... _parts_ sore? " Finn flicked a concerned glance at me before returning his attention to the death and destruction on screen _(Drat!__ Really I __wanted __to __make __love, __not __war!)_, "I'll be done in a few minutes. Just need to get this last asshole who tried to snipe-kill me when I re-spawned, then we could play something else. I think Kurt has Sims 3."

"I'm good," I said in a higher than normal voice. _Oh, __fuck__ a duck__! _I yawned theatrically and stretched my arms over my head in a languorous fashion _(not so easy when one was in a damn sling!)_, nice and slow and cat-like, making sure my shirt rode up to show my ruby navel ring along with an expanse of bare abdomen. I didn't do crunches 5 mornings a week merely for my own amusement, after all.

"Hey, Rach, if you're sleepy, you can lay down behind me here, and I'll wake you up when I'm done," Finn offered helpfully, oblivious to my bare skin displayed solely for his benefit. _Clueless as fuck this one was. I wondered if he'd notice if I took off my top and paraded the girls in his face. I was afraid to find out, honestly._

"I think I'll do that," I said with heavy sarcasm, "Don't let me sleep too long, now..."

"Sure," Finn responded absently as he flicked a thumb on the controller, ducking to avoid a helicopter gunner, "I'm on an awesome kill-streak here. Puck will be so fucking jealous!"

"Well, I'll be back here- _on your bed-_ napping," I huffed softly as I fell backwards on Finn's bed with a little bounce, pulling my splinted wrist out of its sling and flinging it over my eyes theatrically, not that he noticed. F-ing Black Ops zombie.

"I think that's a good idea, seeing as you just got out of the hospital yesterday morning, and you're still on the pain meds." His eyes never leaving the explosions flashing onscreen, he reached over to pat my bare thigh below where the hem of my skirt ended. _Whimper._

Really? An absent pat was all I got? I'd spent 15 minutes changing out of my Hello Kitty pj's for this? Next time I wouldn't bother.

* * *

I must have dozed off, because when I woke with a start sometime later, the late afternoon light had become almost complete blackness, and the room was dark except for dim light filtering in from Finn's bedroom window. The light was not the _only_ thing that was different- somehow I did not have a stitch of clothing on, and strangely, the unfamiliar weight of a long muscular arm was wrapped around my torso as the warm hand attached palmed my bare breast, while a distinctly masculine, definitely naked body was spooned at my back. _What the hell! If I had somehow had sex with Finn, and now had no memory of it, I was going to be seriously pissed! Damn painkillers._

I tried to sit up, but the strong arm tightened around me and a gruff mumble came from behind me, "Rach, it's not time to get up yet. We have at least another hour until the twins will be awake. That midnight feeding really seemed to knock them both out. 'Course, if you hadn't been so insistent about Mommy giving Daddy a little treat of his own, we'd have gotten more sleep...not that I'm complaining. My wife, the total MILF- and did we ever prove that last night! Mmmm..." A naked Finn snuggled against my bare back. _Oooh...hell-o there._ The man wasn't lying. I was evidently still a MILF. _Whoa- this wasn't right! Focus on what he just said, Rachel!_

Finally, when his words slowly percolated through my sex and sleep addled mind, my eyes went wide in horror and confusion, while my entire body tensed with fear. Had I woken in a parallel universe in which Finn and I had twin children and I was a...a MILF? That was the only comforting thing about the whole situation. Well, that and a naked Finn rubbing certain key body parts against my backside.

"Babe, you alright?" Finn leaned over me to brush a bristly cheek against mine, "Did you have another nightmare? Thought we were done with those after the twins were born. It's been over 4 months, after all. Want me to rub your back? That seemed to help before."

"Uh, s-ure. Thanks," my voice cracked a little in panic. I felt Finn shift his upper body away from me a little as his strong fingers moved over my bare neck. I might as well get a back rub whilst freaking out in this bizarre where-the-the-fuck-am-I alternate reality. If I got up and turned on the light to look at naked Finn, this might really turn out to be real or something.

Even while reeling from the mind fuck that was this parallel universe, I couldn't help but truly enjoy Finn kneading my shoulders and neck with those big strong hands of his, until he started speaking, anyway, "Damn, must have been a bad one. You're in knots. Good thing it was your night. I'd hate to think what you would have done if I'd been with Quinn."

"W-with Quinn? As in Quinn Fabray? What?!" I stammered like a damn idiot.

Finn leaned over to brush his lips across the base of my neck in a feathery kiss. Okay. Needed to concentrate here. What the fuck did he just say about Quinn?

"Fabray-Hudson-Berry, now. She's been nagging me about a threesome. Maybe tomorrow night we should try it? I'd hate to think of you waking up alone after a nightmare on Quinn's night with me. What do you say, babe? There's plenty of me to go around, and I want to make both my wives happy." He languidly nibbled on the sensitive skin where my neck met my shoulder, and I shivered with …. well, revulsion. My body was twanging with sexual joy at what he was doing, but what he was _saying_- just... eww!

Oh, my fucking holy shit! Apparently, I had awakened in an episode of _Big Love, _Finn being my polygamist husband with whom I had twin children, and Quinn Fabray-Hudson-Berry _(!)_ was my sister-wife. Dread crashed through me as I finally figured out where I was, and it _wasn't__ good._ Succumbing to my injuries from my topple from Finn's shoulders, I had _**died**_, and _I was in __**hell**_, that's what this was- Rachel Berry-Hudson-Fabray's _(double !)_ own personal hell.

"Rach. Rachel. Rach!" Finn's voice seemed far away and a little worried now, "Rachel, wake up!

Everything seemed to tip crazily around me, and I opened my eyes to find myself again in Finn's room, this time sitting upright next to him on his bed with the dusky early evening light slanting through the window, and his Black Ops game paused on the screen across the room. _Huh? So confused._ Finn put out a hand and brushed his fingertips down my cheek, "You were mumbling in your sleep and kind of squirming around against my back, which at first, I thought was all kinds of hot, until I realized you must be having a really bad dream. You okay?"

"Oh, Finn," I reached out trembling hands towards him, "We aren't married are we? Please tell me we aren't married with twin babies. Quinn isn't married to us, too..." I babbled before taking a shuddering breath, trying to slow my hammering heart. I must have been dreaming. Please, God that _had_ to be a nightmare.

"What?" Finn looked confused and a little disturbed by what I just said, "I don't understand. You just fell asleep about a half an hour ago. I think the pain meds make you sleepy. It was just a bad dream, I guess."

His long fingers gripped my shoulders and rubbed soothing circles there. Oh, that felt like … the dream. Maybe I was still there! I drew back and looked hard at Finn, noting we both had clothes on. I didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved. He returned my look with one of his own, laced with concern and a kind of wariness reserved for mental patients.

Pull yourself together here, RB! It had all been just a brief, albeit freaky-assed dream, nightmare, whatever. Taking slow breaths in and out I crossed my wrists behind Finn's neck and pressed my cheek against his solid chest, letting the dub-dub of his heart soothe me. I felt his lips press a soft kiss at my temple just at my hairline, as his hand stroked down my hair. Mmm... almost worth having unsettling dreams for this.

Time to lay off the pain meds for my broken thumb! No joke. Time to call my gynecologist to discuss birth control. Hell, yes! Time to stop watching the _Big Love_ DVD's with Kurt. Perhaps. Time to avoid Quinn Fabray (Just plain Fabray- thank God!) like the fucking plague from Bitchland that she was. Definitely!

"Finn," I murmured into his soft shirt, smelling of Finn and laundry detergent_ (I just could not bring myself to remove my face from the boy's chest. He smelled incredible!)_, "Sorry for the temporary insanity. I had the most bizarre dream that we were married with twin babies, and to add to that, we were in this weird polygamist relationship with Quinn where she and I shared you, and you wanted to have a threesome like in a bad porn movie. Beyond bizarre- it was hair-standing-on-end, don't want to ever sleep again disturbing is what it was."

"I don't think I could pick just one thing to be creeped out most about what you just said, Rach. Even if I understood what you're talking about." he drew back and looked down at me teasingly before continuing, "A threesome, huh?" A lopsided grin broke across his features. _Such a __man__! He would focus on **that**._

"Don't even joke about it, mister! Dr. Head-Shrinker would probably have a lot to say about it, that's for sure," I tried for a dry tone, and only partially succeeded, "I know he'd be more than a little interested in the fact that in my dream, we had some sort of twisted _menage a trois_ with Quinn Fabray. Apparently, my subconscious didn't get the memo that you two broke up."

"Well, we _did_ break up... obviously," Finn said with conviction, lowering his chin to stare pointedly in my eyes, "I don't know what else I can say to reassure you."

"I know," shaking my head with self-disgust, "It's just Quinn is, well... Quinn. Beautiful, popular, a Cheerio, every guy's wet dream, and I'm_ me_. Slightly neurotic, not-so popular, and though Jacob Ben Israel did say he had a sex dream about me last week, I hardly think that counts, since he took his mom to the spring dance last year."

"Rach, why do you do that?" Finn said with no small amount of frustration, and then mused softly to himself, "Need to find out who this Jacob guy is, so I can put some fear into him..."

"Why do I do what?" I asked, being deliberately obtuse, while secretly a little pleased that Finn was jealous.

Finn's brows were drawn together in irritation. _And here we go._ "Cut yourself down like that. It's really, well... it's annoying."

"I'm just trying to be realistic here, Finn," I went on the defensive, "You have to know what happened last time when we were sort of together, and that wasn't even really official or anything. Do you know how people, your friends specifically, look at me when I'm with you, like... like... I'm something that crawled out of the damned dumpster behind the school where they routinely chuck my friends into?"

Finn shrugged, "Puck doesn't do that anymore, and Kurofsky and Azimo are assholes, who have _never_ been my friends. I don't think anyone will care much about us, and if anything people will be a little surprised you took my sorry-ass back. It's just that you and I aren't an obvious combination, kind of like grilled cheese and pickle sandwiches, and you know how much I love those."

Wrinkling my nose, I joked, "Guess I'm a sucker for guys who eat weird food combinations. I still can't believe you eat that, but who am I to judge, right? I wonder, who is the pickle and who is the cheese in this relationship sandwich."

"Exactly. Who are you to judge?" he asked. I could hear Finn's smile in his tone, as his arms tightened around me in a fierce hug, "And I'd like to think I'm the pickle. A very big, thick, juicy pickle."

"Why, Mr. Hudson, did you just make a sexual innuendo involving your pickle? I'm scandalized," I drew back fluttering my eyelashes at him, while I fanned myself with my injured hand.

"Hmpf. The day I scandalize you is the day I walk down the hall at McKinley in my tighty-whities," he mock-frowned down at me.

_My boy was on fire tonight with the funny. Good thing, too. After that dream, I needed all the humor I could get._ "Tighty-whities? Really? What are you like six?"

The laughter died in my throat when I saw how hurt Finn looked. He moved out of our embrace to sit up stiffly, red staining his cheeks, and replied defensively, "I like support, okay. And I have other colors besides white, too."

"Point taken," I quickly backpedaled, glancing down at his groin area, "Besides, I think you're right, tighty-whities probably are a good look for you. I'm sure they'd be very...tight."

I know I licked my lips while looking down at the fly of his jeans. Oh, my fruit of the loom! The mental image of Finn's equipment encased in soft white cotton really did get the juices flowing. Who knew tighty-whities could be so damn sexy? Come to Mama!

I mentally smacked myself, "Anyway, as appealing as that image is, I don't want to share, so no public flaunting of your tighty-whities in the school hallways, if you please, my love."

_**Ack! Pain meds strike again!**_ God, was I blushing? I was blushing.

A slow smile spread across Finn's face before he moved closer, his fingers lightly brushing over the bare skin above my knee, "As soon as your hand is better, maybe I'll give you a ...what did you call it?... um... a private flaunting, _my love_."

I reached down and put my good hand over his, trapping it between my palm and my bare thigh, "Why wait?"

Nonplussed, his mouth opened and shut a few times, "Uh... um, Rach, I... uh..."

I took mercy on his predicament, "Something to look forward to then?"

"God yes! I mean, absolutely. In fact, I was thinking about our first official date on Saturday," Finn smiled a little secretively, "I wanted it to be special, you know, not just a trip to BreadStix and a movie or something like that."

"Whatever we do will be fine with me, you know," I demurred, though special sounded great.

"Well, I kind of want it to be a surprise, but I need Kurt to help me with what you wear, so it doesn't give away the surprise, like it would if I told you." _Ooh, better and better._ "So, I'll send him over Saturday afternoon to get what you'll need from your room, and he'll bring it to me, okay?"

"Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this," I said with a smile. _So sweet._ "I can't wait to see what it is. Generally, surprises aren't my thing, but I think I can definitely make an exception here."

He looked a little nervous, but then he seemed to shore up his determination in saying, "You've never had a Finn Hudson surprise, though."

"Well, now that you make it sound so intriguing, I'm looking forward to it," I was already mentally hopping up and down with excitement of a 4-year-old at the circus- thus my dislike of surprises.

_How would I stand it?!_ I hated waiting the two minutes for my tea in the morning, much less my first official date with Finn that was still two whole days away.

It didn't help that one of those days included the playoff football game in which Finn was the starting quarterback. I felt a combination of pride and nerves. Finn had worked so hard with the rest of his team to get to the playoff game taking place the next night. I would be going and sitting with the Hudson-Hummels, of course. Blaine, Kurt and I were even wearing matching red scarves to show our support. My two friends had promised to distract me whenever Finn got sacked or was otherwise under hundreds of pounds of gear and muscle when he was tackled. I felt sick just thinking about it.

"Finn, about the game tomorrow..." I began hesitantly, my eyes moved to the pile of dirty clothes on his floor and then to his shelf of dusty sports memorabilia- anywhere but looking him in the eye, not sure exactly how to phrase what I needed to say, "I know you're a big, tough guy and all, but only one of us is allowed to be injured at a time here _(that's it, go for the lame joke). _So, please... please be careful out there, okay? I'll be the one sitting in the stands with my hand over my eyes, wincing every time you get hit."

I had expected him to dismiss my expression of concern for his safety with some male posturing or some gruff comment about how tough he was, so when he looked like he might cry and hugged me tightly to his warm chest, I was a bit taken aback, "Rach,_ no one_, other than my mom, and she's my mom, so it doesn't really count, has ever worried for me at a game before. Quinn certainly never did. She just got all pissed at me when we didn't win, saying it was hard to cheer for losers. You telling me to be careful- That feels kinda... awesome."

"Not from where I'll be sitting, Mr. Hudson. Of course, I worry. Anyone who reads the news knows that football has one of the highest injury rates of any sport. Just watch yourself out there, and try not to be too much of a hero. Promise?"

"You got it- speaking of you being in the stands, I have something for you," he stood and walked over to his dresser, picking up a jersey lying there neatly folded and holding it out to me, "I'd like you to wear this tomorrow, that is... if you want to, I mean. It's one of my old jerseys. I had Mom hem it, so it wouldn't be like a dress on you. It'll still be really big, so I get it if you don't want to wear it. That's totally okay... I mean."

My heart melting at his nervous gibbering, I took the slippery fabric gently from his outstretched hands, gazing at the big number 5 embossed on the front, "I'll be proud to wear it! I need to thank your mom for altering it for me. That was so sweet of her and...really sweet of you, too...," I gently pushed him to sit down on his bed, so I could slip his shirt awkwardly over my head with my braced hand to give him impromptu fashion show, "It's big, but I think it's great! See?"

I twirled in a circle and then carefully perched myself on his knee, mindful of my bruised butt. Wrapping my arms around his neck in a loose hug I chirped, "Thanks, Finn, I love it!"

"You do look pretty cute in that, Rach, and way sexy, actually. Just knowing you'll be there in the stands wearing my number and cheering for me, caring whether I get hurt or not, really makes me so proud, babe. I mean it," he murmured shyly before swooping in and planting a firm kiss on my unsuspecting lips.

My head was spinning when we broke apart a few minutes later, as I gasped out, "Tell you what, Number 5, I promise to give you a special, private jersey-only fashion show some time soon, if you do the same for me in your tighty-whities."

"It's a date," he replied with that lethal grin of his.

"Oooh, two dates to look forward to now. Lucky me," I quipped against his lips, as I moved to kiss him again.

* * *

_Felt the need for some fluff and silliness. Thanks for putting up with me! If you could find it in your heart to leave a review, that would be great!_


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